SometimeSomehow
by G.E Waldo
Summary: Radek Zalenka's pet experiment goes horribly wrong and Rodney McKay pays the price.
1. Chapter 1

Sometime...Somehow...

"Yes, Rodney you're right, you're always right - about everything - all the time in fact. You're the smartest man on the station, the most brilliant man in the galaxy, probably in the whole universe!"

As he approached the source of the raised voices, John Sheppard sighed and almost turned around to retrace his steps back to Control. He had heard this unpleasant tune before and it was not a song anyone in the city cared to dance to. Doctor Rodney McKay and Doctor Radek Zelenka, Atlantis's two top scientists extraordinaire, were again at it tooth and nail.

Rodney's reply burst from his mouth like bullets. Friend or no friend, at times the man talked so fast it sounded like gibberish. Over the years, however, Sheppard had perfected the art of pretending he understood Rodney's scientific nattering.

Rodney's volume could also be unpleasant. ""Sometime? Somehow?" Rodney was repeating words Sheppard assumed Radek had just expressed, Rodney speaking in a voice of mocking disbelief. "Honestly, Radek, you and your metaphysics not to mention your usual short-sightedness. You have once again missed the crucial point I'm trying to make here, so for a change just listen to me –"

""For a change"?" Radek's lower tenor could be heard now. Neither had noticed Colonel Sheppard's arrival and he watched as Radek stopped his angry march out of McKay's lab and spun on his fellow scientist. ""For a change"!?" he repeated to McKay who, upon Radek's abrupt stop, had almost run into the Science Department's Second Advisor.

Sheppard felt sorry for Radek who had almost made his get-away into the relative freedom of the corridor; the one that led to the mess hall and, no doubt, a welcome and peaceful lunch hour away from Rodney McKay's shrill tongue.

""For a change"?" Radek repeated once more, his face's color washing from normal to pink, over to red and then nearly purple! "All I ever do is listen to you, all day every day, as you insinuate over and over about how much smarter you are than me – or than anyone – my God, what an ego!" Radek marched off muttering a string of what Sheppard suspected were Czechoslovakian curses, most of them undoubtedly in reference to Rodney's mother.

Sheppard considered cancelling his lunch plans with McKay in favor of a little de-stressing sparring with the larger, far less emotionally anal Ronan. With Ronan things were much simpler; you liked your life or not, were happy with yourself or not, were keen on your friends or not, and hated the Wraith or not. He cared nothing about ego or great achievement or being better than the other person. Ronan wanted to be the best him he could be and for him that meant killing Wraith and serving the Atlantis team to the height of his ability. Ego didn't factor into either.

Sheppard bit the bullet and stuck his head around the corner of Doctor Rodney McKay's main lab. "Uh...hey. We still on for lunch?"

Rodney looked up from his laptop where every few seconds another string of mathematical equations flashed across the screen. Sheppard suddenly realised that, remarkably, the scientist was reading and absorbing the complex information as fast as the computer could spit it out. He shook his head. There was no doubt that McKay was an arrogant bastard, but he was without question a super smart arrogant bastard.

Rodney saw who it was and his manner, before tightly wound and frustrated, perceptibly relaxed. John knew he had some influence over his friend – a friendship some in the city puzzled over – and was glad to see the Canadian's shoulders relax a bit. "Uh, yeah, sure, sure..." McKay got up from his stool and stretched. Sheppard noted that McKay gathered up his hand-written notes and the laptop, clearly intending to bring them to lunch as well.

Sheppard sighed. It was just as well. If McKay was in more of a mood to study numbers than talk, it would be best not to push him to leave the work behind. A science-grumpy Rodney did not make a pleasant lunch companion.

Rodney was, however, anything but silent and after several minutes of McKay's complaining, Sheppard held up his hands in surrender. "Rodney! I'm not getting what you're so damned upset about. So Zelenka believes in fate – so what?"

"So what?" To McKay the very idea of fate, predestination or any other metaphysical system of belief was sheer nonsense. "Zelenka is a scientist. If he wants to waste his time – and mine – with talk of god, angels, or karma he should have become a priest. This is an expedition of scientists, not religious Guru's spouting ridiculous theories about, and I quote: "the marvelous construct of the ebb and flow of fate" or "the exquisite harmony of the universe's unfolding of all life". It's–it's fanciful fluff of the weaker minded. It has absolutely nothing to do with proved scientific theory."

Sheppard frowned. "I always thought theory meant that it wasn't proved yet."

"That what wasn't proved?"

"I don't know – anything!" Sheppard was already weary of the whole argument. "Look, Rodney, all I'm saying is we're not all scientists." Sheppard pointed out.

That actually caused McKay to close his mouth very suddenly, a rare enough event that it always surprised, and occasionally amused, Sheppard.

For a moment McKay stared across the table at his friend, his face one of genuine shock. "You mean you believe in all that stuff?"

Sheppard was quick to answer. "I didn't say that. I just mean that there are a lot of people in this city who don't subscribe to the idea that there is nothing else...you know...out there."

McKay huffed at the suggestion that grown-ups could put their faith in anything other than science. "It's utter nonsense. You're talking about gods and angels; myths; fantasies."

"I'm talking about you keeping a more open mind about it and not stomping all over everybody's personal beliefs about..." Sheppard always found these kinds of discussions uncomfortable and not only because it was a topic as personal to him as it was to most people but because he often found himself at a loss to articulate it in terms that made sense – even to himself. "...whatever it is they believe. And besides it's none of your business anyway." Sheppard picked up his forgotten sandwich and bit into it. The edges of the freshly cut bread had already begun to dry out from his neglect. "What was so bad about Zelenka's idea anyway?" Not that he was all that interested.

Rodney huffed twice. "Zelenka wants to use the power of the ZPM to open a small worm-hole in a contained area. He thinks he may be able to regulate the energy flowing from the wormhole and channel it as a secondary emergency power supply."

"Well, that doesn't sound any crazier than any of the stuff you've tried." It didn't. "And we could use the back-up energy supply."

"True but here's the other part of the idea that is bad. Radek thinks he may be able to, and I'm using his words..." Rodney used the first and second fingers of both hands to make little bunny-ear quotes in the air ""convince" the worm-hole to "agree" with his "intentions", that by making some ridiculous, invisible, non-communicated "bond" with the "mind" behind the worm-hole, they together might be able to contain the energy flow." McKay paused and blurted "It's insane."

"May I remind you of the worm-hole you created to an alternate universe? Of the micro-black-hole you accidently caused in the middle of a science conference? Or the solar system you destroyed?"

McKay paused in his tirade. "I am fully aware of all of those incidents-and they were all valid, previously and thoroughly researched experiments." McKay sipped his cold coffee and made a face. "They just didn't work is all."

Sheppard couldn't help it, he laughed. "Incidents." Repeating the word like it was the punch-line.

"Yes - incidents." Rodney underlined. "Which give me more than enough precedent to deny Radek's request to try his idea."

"You haven't said how he plans to open this worm-hole."

"You wouldn't understand it." McKay insisted.

Sheppard felt like smacking him upside the head. But instead gave McKay his most patient look. "Try me."

McKay rolled his eyes. "Fine. Zelenka wants to fly a Jumper through the Stargate and while still in the worm-hole and using the power from the Stargate's worm-hole, open a smaller wormhole using the cargo hold of the jumper as a containment chamber - for safety reasons."

Sheppard shrugged. No problem with the geek-speak so far. "Okay. So?"

"We're talking a wormhole within a wormhole. So if his calculations are off by even the slightest fraction he could lose control of the worm-hole's energy flow, it could expand and swallow the whole jumper and everyone in it. And worse than that it could swallow the Stargate, the city and this whole planet. And here's the least that could happen – it could send us all spiralling back through time."

It didn't sound nearly as nuts as McKay made it sound, although all of this worm-hole experimenting outside of the controlled confines of the Stargate was clearly nuts. "Well," Sheppard mused aloud, trying to target the reason why McKay was so dead-set against the idea when some of his own hare-brained schemes had nearly killed them all once or twice, "if you're so scared, don't go on the Jumper." Ever since sinking to the bottom of the ocean in a crippled Jumper, McKay was less than comfortable aboard the little ships.

McKay snapped. "I'm not scared." He stirred his ice-cold coffee with a nervous spoon. "It's a dangerous experiment. That's all."

Sheppard nodded. "Right." Sheppard took a deep breath. "Rodney, why can't you just play nice? You've told me yourself you think Zelenka is brilliant. Why not let him have his one little experiment? Just this once. You could be on hand to make sure nothing goes wrong. You could even check his calculations to make sure they're not screwy." It would have been easier to drop the whole subject but if he could help Rodney become even a little more circumspect regarding the personal opinions and beliefs of others, then at least Zelenka might be grateful. Maybe even thankful. Maybe he could talk Zelenka into getting his sister to send him some more jars of pickled preserves like carrots and baby onions, his favorites; the kind with the real garlic cloves floating in them. Sheppard filed away the possibilities for later.

McKay shook his head vigorously. "It's too risky. And if Zelenka thinks he can incorporate his wacky ideas into what I consider is already a high risk experiment - no matter what the benefits – he's highly mistaken. And in case you've forgotten, this is my department so I'm not about to allow him to-"

Sheppard resisted the urge to roll his eyes and took a second bite of his dry tuna-fish sandwich when Elizabeth Weir's patient voice was heard over the city's intercom, calling them both to her office.

When they arrived at Weir's office, Sheppard saw that Doctor Radek Zelenka was already there. Sheppard felt McKay stiffen beside him and winced inwardly himself. This was going to be one of those meetings. Why Weir felt the need to have him at these egg-head boxing matches was beyond him, although he suspected that she liked him there because, as she had once told him, she believed he was a calming influence on Rodney, an assumption that at the time nearly made him laugh aloud.

Elizabeth smiled pleasantly and gestured for them to sit down. Two empty chairs had been placed next to Zelenka's and they sat, Sheppard taking the seat closest to the Czech scientist.

Elizabeth offered Sheppard a thankful nod of her head. A physical buffer between the two Science Department's greatest minds – and greatest ego's – was one she obviously appreciated.

Sheppard returned her look with a small, toothless smile of his own, letting his eyes linger for a moment on her features. Elizabeth Weir who he guessed was probably pushing forty, still made heads turn. There was nothing cheaply pretty about Elizabeth. She was on the contrary a refined and beautiful woman. As a habit she wore no make-up but for a soft splash of lipstick. She kept her brunette hair bobbed and styled with simple waves, and in her wide spaced, warm brown eyes and china-doll complexion she carried a delicate beauty that would make many a younger woman turn green with envy. She was also a determined but fair woman and, as far as Sheppard was concerned, made an excellent Expedition leader. They were lucky to have her.

Weir didn't waste time. "Doctor Zelenka has brought something to my attention." She said, "That's why I wanted you here, Doctor McKay."

McKay, who was already bristling, never-the-less managed to keep his tone acceptably respectful. "Oh? And what is that?"

Weir clasped her hands together and looked at Rodney fondly. It was no act. She actually liked Rodney despite his high maintenance, argumentative and often chaffing personality. Weir had made it one of her missions to get to know and try to understand the idiosyncrasies of each of the people who served under her. A noble goal and one in which Sheppard imagined Rodney had presented her a special challenge.

Weir looked at each of them in turn. "I have called this meeting to discuss doctor Zelenka's idea for worm hole energy," she glanced at McKay, "and, Rodney, before you get that look in your eye, I want you to hear him out. I think his idea has merit and we are in need of some ideas now. Our ZPM's recharge capacity is nearing the end of its life. We need more power."

McKay was tight lipped, but he kept glancing passed Sheppard to Zelenka.

"Doctor..." Weir nodded to Zelenka, giving him the floor.

Zelenka cleared his throat. "My idea is to create a mini- worm hole inside the Stargate's worm-hole stream using the rear cargo area of a Puddle Jumper to contain it. If my calculations are correct –"

McKay had to say it "And that's a big if."

Zelenka ignored him. "As I was saying if my data is correct we should be able to contain and redirect the flow of the energy coming through from the other side into the ZPM itself, theoretically this would also re-crystallize it. The ZPM would become as though brand new and able to hold a complete charge again – for many years, maybe for decades."

Weir looked at McKay. "Doctor McKay?" She prompted. "What do you think, and I would appreciate it if you left personal feelings and ego out of it."

McKay looked insulted. "It's...an interesting idea." He finally admitted. "But if even one iota of Radek's calculations is off, the risks are huge. We could lose-"

Weir interrupted. "Have you checked his calculations?"

McKay looked uncomfortable. "No."

Weir nodded. "Well then, you have some reading to do Doctor McKay. Go do that. Take a few days if you have to, use your team and find out if the data is good. Then we'll discuss risks at our next meeting."

McKay appeared a little put-out but wisely he didn't argue with her. Zelenka disappeared out the door and Sheppard followed McKay into the hall.

"Well..." Sheppard tried to keep it light. "That went better than I expected."

McKay offered him a small glower. "Excuse me, I have to go and make sure Radek's Karma experiment doesn't blow us all up."

Sheppard was grateful to return to his own quarters for some shut-eye. There would plenty of time to sooth McKay's bruised ego later.

XXX

"So?" Weir asked her two trusted scientific advisors. "What do you have for us?"

Zelenka said nothing and McKay took the floor. "His calculations seem accurate."

Weir brightened "Excellent, then we can –"

"Hang on." McKay went on in a hurry. "Just because we could find no errors in the math doesn't mean we should conduct the experiment. There are a hundred variables that could occur that might radically change the parameters not to mention the thousand things about worm-holes no scientists have ever thought of before - including me. The only reason we're using worm-hole technology right now is because the ancients conveniently left the Stargates behind."

Weir wasn't convinced. "But we've learned so much about them since then."

Rodney sat forward in his chair to better drive home his point. "Yes, but we're utilizing their knowledge and their machines. I admit we've learned a lot about worm-holes within those boundaries, but no one has ever opened a worm-hole inside a worm-hole before. Not the ancients and certainly not us."

Weir sat back and studied the top of her desk for a moment. "Okay Rodney, tell us: If we try this experiment and something goes wrong, what is the worst case scenario you can think of? What could happen?"

"On the low end the worm-hole could release far more radiation than expected and damage the Jumper or us. On the high end we and the entire planet could all end up as a long string of sub-atomic particles in another universe. In other words - dead."

Weir asked Zelenka. "And what can your team put in place to minimize those risks?"

Sheppard remained silent, letting the science team do their thing without interruption. He didn't know science stuff. He was a soldier and an excellent pilot and since he had volunteered to fly the Jumper, Weir thought he should be at this meeting too. He had spent most of it thus far watching McKay, who looked haggard.

Zelenka looked confident. "We can erect a smaller version of the city's shield around the aft section of the Jumper. This should contain any radiation spikes while we channel the smaller worm-hole's sub-atomic charge into the ZPM."

Weir nodded. "Rodney? Any other objections? Do you believe the shield will afford enough protection?"

McKay looked tired. Sheppard had seen him rub his eyes more than once since entering the room. He sighed. "Yes, but only against sudden radiation spikes. We...we can't devise safety parameters for things we've never thought of." McKay said.

Weir considered her options. Sheppard knew she would not make any decisions lightly. "Doctor Zelenka, I think Rodney's right. We should be as cautious as we can so what about emergency shut-down protocols? What if something unforeseen happens? Will you be able to shut it down?"

Zelenka nodded. "I'll have my finger on the button at all times. Anything out of the ordinary happens and we can cut the power to the Stargate in an instant."

"Doctor McKay?" Weir asked. "Does that satisfy you?"

One of McKay's shoulders lifted in a micro-shrug and Sheppard wondered if anyone else caught it. It was one of his friend's gestures, among those with which Sheppard had become familiar during the years McKay had been a regular part of his team.

Weir was adept at details, however, and it had not escaped her notice. She was also not a leader to so easily let one of her staff off without an honest word. "So you still think this is a bad idea?"

"No." McKay stole a glance at Zelenka to his left. "For obtaining power it's a good idea, it's just...worm-holes are mostly unknown quantities. The science is still in its infancy. I just..."

"You have reservations." She offered and McKay nodded. "I understand your concerns Doctor McKay, I share them, but our power needs are urgent and I think it's worth the risk. Okay." Weir nodded also and stood; her unspoken signal that the meeting was at a close. "We'll try this but, Doctor Zelenka I'm counting on you to keep the team and Atlantis safe. That's all gentlemen."

Sheppard exited the room behind McKay and heard him mutter "The whole damn experiment is out of the ordinary."

"Well," Sheppard said, trying to cheer up his worried friend. "That wasn't so bad."

McKay looked grim. "Yeah. Here's to success."

Sheppard watched his friend walk away. He was tempted to follow but knew he sucked at comfort words. Best to let Rodney blow the steam from his bruised ego himself. He could always take McKay on a fishing trip or something when they got a day off together.

XXX

"Ready?"

McKay nodded.

Sheppard watched with mild interest as Zelenka and his team of two, including Rodney, hooked up the ZPM to a series of thick cables which were hooked up to the Jumper's controls, which were set to be shut down with a single finger if all did not go well. The rest of Sheppard's usual team members, Ronan and Teyla, stood off to the side, curious but trying not to get in the way.

McKay was seated in the Jumper's co-pilot seat, his fingers a blur of activity on his laptop. Sheppard had no idea what the scientist was doing and didn't ask. He was more concerned with the man. According to Zelenka McKay had stayed up for the better part of two days running hundreds of simulations to ensure nothing what-so-ever that might go wrong would go wrong. But Sheppard could see his friend was still worried. McKay had explained it to him in very few words. "You can't prepare for what you can't predict."

In the light of a soldier's experience, Sheppard had got the point. If you know nothing about your enemy, you simply can't know exactly how to fight them, let alone how to win.

In contrast to McKay's sober expression Zelenka was trying but mostly failing to keep the grin off his face. This experiment was his baby and he was like a parent beaming with pride. "Ready to go here." He cheerfully reported to McKay.

McKay, eyes never leaving his laptop, replied "Oh goodie."

Ignoring McKay's dour mood, Zelenka nodded to the other member of his team for the day, a tiny brunette with glasses much too big for her face. She understood his meaning and entered a series of commands into the Jumper's control panel. In response a portion of the shield that protected Atlantis came to life within the confines of the Jumper. Between the wall separating the rear cargo hold and the control section where they all stood, a flickering light appeared, making the divider glow an electric blue.

Zelenka motioned with his hand for everyone to stand back. "Here we go." He said and pressed a series of commands on his own laptop that was connected, via the Jumper, to Atlantis's Stargate controls.

Suddenly what sounded like a high pitched whine, as though a breach in the Jumper was letting out a rush of air, emanated from beyond the Jumper's dividing wall. "Open the divider." Zelenka told his tiny assistant.

She complied and the strong metal door that separated them from Zelenka's creation slide aside.

What greeted their eyes beyond the barrier was exactly what Zelenka had predicted they would see – a worm hole approximately two-thirds of a meter in diameter. For all intents and purposes it resembled an up-ended tuba, its narrow end snaking this way and that. Despite himself Sheppard was impressed.

Zelenka could not help but glance around to where McKay was seated, a look of triumph on his face. McKay responded in true form. "Congratulations, we're not dead."

Just as Zelenka had opened his mouth to answer, the diameter of the wormhole jumped in size another few centimeters. McKay frowned and said to Zelenka. "I thought you said the size would never vary? You were sure!"

The grin on Zelenka's face disappeared as he studied the numbers on his own laptop. "It shouldn't be." He insisted. "This doesn't make sense. This-this should not be happening."

McKay's face had blanched. "Shut it down now."

Zelenka nodded and hit the shutdown command.

Nothing changed except the wormhole, which again grew in size. Its tail end became even more erratic. McKay shouted this time. "Radek – shut the damn thing down!"

"I'm trying. The control won't respond."

McKay suddenly remembered his own laptop and to the best of his ability began feeding the data of what he was seeing into his preconfigured simulation calculations. The blood drained from his face. He looked at Sheppard and Sheppard knew in that instant that whatever was happening was seriously not good. Not good at all.

Zelenka was going over his own notes and McKay, instead of explaining to them what he was doing, began entering a series of commands into the Jumper's control panel, then he focused his attention on his laptop, the fingers of his right hand furiously pounding the keys for many seconds until Sheppard shouted "Rodney, what the hell are you doing? Shut the damn thing off."

McKay nodded once but his concentration was so intent on what he was doing, all he said was "I will." McKay glanced at them all in turn. First he looked at Sheppard, then Zelenka, over to the brunette and finally Teyla and Ronan. Just one lightening fast flicker of his eyes on each while he mumbled words that to Sheppard sounded like "Too small, too small, way too small, way too big...but oh man just right. Figures!"

McKay pulled out his tiny personal transponder; a tracking devise that each resident of Atlantis was required to keep on their person at all times, and switched it on and then, weirdly, held it up for them to see. He then put it back, shoving it deeply in his pocket.

Ronan frowned. "Rodney, why did you-"

McKay didn't answer but once his fingers were finished their tasks and had stilled, he turned to the team members. Sheppard had never seen a look on McKay's face like the one he saw now. His friend was panicked, terrified and determined all at the same time.

Mostly terrified though.

Sheppard was used to McKay being scared when a routine mission turned dangerous but not this sort of scared. This was a scared that said there was no hope. This was Rodney looking down into his own vision of hell. This was Doctor Rodney McKay, brilliant scientist and valued team member, seeing the only possible means of escape and it was the worst possible choice.

The only choice.

"Rodney –"Sheppard was about to ask him what the hell he was waiting for when McKay glanced back at the Jumper's control panel. With that gesture Sheppard also looked and noticed for the first time the shield's control panel counting down to zero. Sheppard knew what it meant. McKay had set a timer for the shield to drop. If the shield dropped with the wormhole still active, they would all be quickly consumed by it. They were too close not to be pulled in.

Sheppard swallowed hard. "Rodney, what the hell are you doing!?"

The counter was five seconds from Zero when McKay suddenly shouted at them. "Grab something – NOW!"

McKay looked so terrified that no one hesitated. Then he did something in every way unexpected; he pushed his laptop against Zelenka's chest until Zelenka had a firm grip on it with one hand, and said: "I hope like hell you're right."

Then, in the next instant, the shield between them and the whipping, whirling wormhole dropped and McKay without any hesitation at all jumped through its howling maw like a man taking a dive into his own back yard pool.

And disappeared.

XXX Part II soon.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Sometime...Somehow... Part II**_

Authors note: I am not a scientist so let's face it – most of the worm-hole talk in here is inaccurate geek-speak. All I can say is they did this sort of B-S-ing on Start Trek all the time. There is also the possibility that this might turn a bit slashy. It depends...if I get lots of protests against, then I'll respect the majority of my readers and not go there.

XXX

As deafening as the presence of the worm-hole had been, and as panicked was their collective state of mind in those last few seconds before Rodney disappeared into its funnel...

Now inside the Jumper it was as silent as a tumbled ruin, and their thoughts as mute as the reaches between the stars. For many seconds no one moved or said a word. You could have heard a pin drop.

John Sheppard, a military man of action, was the first to break the stupor of their momentary freeze-frame and spoke. "What the _hell_ just happened?" He asked the dead air. Rodney was gone.

When no one responded Sheppard looked over at Zelenka, whose eyes were still fixed on the spot where his worm-hole, and Rodney, had vanished, didn't answer.

Sheppard repeated himself, this time much louder. "Will someone _please_ tell me what the hell just happened?"

Zelenka tore his eyes away from the empty cargo bay and looked down at the Jumpers controls beneath his fingers. The Emergency Shut-Off Counter was flashing Zero over and over. Atlantis's Stargate-generated wormhole was still active, and according to his instruments, nothing else was amiss. Zelenka finally found his speech. "I-I'm not sure." He ran his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end every which way. It looked comic. "Um, the worm-hole is gone..."

Sheppard stepped away from the wall where he had hooked his fingers through a loop and held on for dear life as Rodney had advised only a moment before. "We can see that. What happened to McKay? _Where_ is McKay?"

Zelenka felt all eyes on him. "I-I don't know what happened exactly - yet. I'll need to study the data to make a determination." Zelenka was breathing hard and his heart was pounding. He raised his eyes to no one. None of the numbers made any sense to him yet. Some of them were Rodney's numbers. They would make sense to Rodney of course, but he wasn't there.

"I n-need to get back to the lab and correlate the data we gathered to see what went wrong but of course that will take some time – some of this was Rodney's and, as we know, he didn't think like m-most of us...I mean he _thought_ of course, truly brilliant sometimes, but it was never, it was never..." Zelenka knew he was babbling but the data he was seeing thus far only puzzled him. Knowing he eventually would have to answer Colonel Sheppard's question filled him with dread.

It was too soon to speak of it, though - where Rodney might be - far, far too soon. But they would find a way. This was his fault. _He_ would find a way. He would find Rodney. He _had_ to.

Sheppard ignored Zelenka for the moment. The man was clearly as stunned as the rest of them. Instead he contacted Atlantis. "Elizabeth? We've got a problem."

XXX

Doctor Zelenka entered Elizabeth's Weir's office with Rodney McKay's laptop in one hand, and a stack of paper and ink notes as thick as his thumb in the other.

Elizabeth gestured to a chair where Zelenka sat and began shuffling his papers. "Not all of these are mine, you understand, some are Rodney's, but I have managed to decipher them – well, most of them, it's just that it's difficult, Rodney was so much better at this sort of –"

Elizabeth understood Zelenka's anxiety. Rodney was gone and to all first appearances it was Zelenka's fault. Weir knew that she shared a good portion of the blame. She was astute enough to also realise that the IOA would certainly place _all_ of the blame squarely on her shoulders. "Doctor Zelenka. Please just tell us what you know. We can all try to live with ourselves later."

That seemed to calm him somewhat and allow him to gather his thoughts and put them in some kind of order, enough so that his opening statement was not the encouraging one she had hoped for. "I think I understand why the worm-hole would not remain stable despite our preparations." He swallowed. "And I _think_ I know where Rodney is – I mean, I have an idea where he _went_."

Weir asked "Where did he go?"

Zelenka took a deep breath and explained. "Um, first of all the news is not good. I wish it was but as far as I understand it, the second worm-hole – because it had been created with, for lack of a better term, no designation in space-time, it tried to_ find_ one. That's why it expanded. It was looking for a place to exist – a point of reference – to attach itself to, and there was none. Because...we, er - _I_, never gave it one."

Before they pelted him with questions Zelenka rushed to clarify. "You see, because we - because _I_ - created it inside the Stargate's worm-hole matrix, it didn't actually exist in our space-time, but it, well, _wanted_ to. All the parameters in this universe would not have kept it contained for long because it didn't recognise our space-time, our math, or our physical laws. They were all meaningless to it. Unfortunately neither I nor Rodney foresaw this aspect of the experiment."

Sheppard said "No kidding? So what you're saying is Rodney disappeared into a worm-hole that doesn't - or - _did_n't exist? That doesn't make sense, Radek. Rodney is _gone_. Now I'm no scientist but I'm pretty sure _he_ existed, and if the worm-hole swallowed him..."

"It didn't swallow him, exactly, and it existed but not in our space-time. But our Stargate's worm-hole did exist, and does, and it was still active and Rodney knew that. He also recognised that if he could stop the second worm-hole's expansion in time, it would...save us."

This was why he hated all this science stuff. So much damn double-talk. Sheppard ask, a bit peeved now "That still doesn't answer the question: Where is Rodney?"

Zelenka kept his eyes on Weir's far more sympathetic expression. "When Rodney jumped into the second worm-hole, he collapsed it, but in doing so it spat him out into our Stargate's worm-hole. So he is where-ever our worm-hole sent him."

Sheppard nodded. "Well - good. So we can just figure out which address that is and go get him."

But Zelenka shook his head, reluctantly. He bit his lip and glanced down at his notes, and Rodney's, wishing they would change to reflect more encouraging news. "The problem is we configured our Stargate to create a worm-hole that had no specific address at the other end. I mean no address that is a known planet or solar system. We configured it so the other end would finish up in an area between stars, in e-empty space." Zelenka didn't look at Sheppard but kept his attention on his notes. Notes didn't have disappointed or angry eyes. Notes didn't judge, didn't _hate _you.

Sheppard looked at Weir whose face had just gone as pale as he supposed his own had. He asked "Are you telling us that McKay is floating out there in space somewhere? That would make him _dead_, Radek."

Zelenka held up a finger. "No, no, it doesn't. N-not necessarily,...b-because just before Rodney jumped into the vortex he entered some notes and data into the Jumper and into his laptop. The notes were his interpretation of what was happening with the dynamics of two worm-holes, how the smaller one was affecting the larger one, and the data – it's a program, a formula that he created, on the spot, to help us find him."

Sheppard was tired of all the talking and especially all the sitting around doing nothing to find his friend. "Okay, so let's use it and go _find_ him. We're wasting precious time." He stood up, ready for action. In fact he could feel his muscles quivering in his anxiety to get moving.

But Zelenka wasn't finished. "It's not that simple Colonel."

Weir's heart dropped even further, thinking to herself _it never is._

Sheppard stared down at Zelenka, his nerves a jumble of twisted ends, his patience all but vanishing. "Why _not_?"

Zelenka went from his notes to Weir and back to his notes. "Rodney suspected the smaller worm hole was warping the dimensions of the larger one and I think he understood what that meant. It meant the other end of the Stargate's worm hole, the end that we had configured to open into empty space, had been altered; so the final destinations, the possibilities for where the other end came out were _other_ than empty space, although I believe empty space still made up a percentage of those possibilities."

Elizabeth followed. "You mean Rodney may not be in space, he may have ended up on a planet?" _Please..._

Zelenka gave her a small nod. "Yes."

Sheppard knew what was coming next. "But..."

Zelenka rubbed his eyes. It had taken him nine hours of study to decipher the notes and data that Rodney, in less than forty seconds, had entered into his laptop and the Jumper's controls. The results had left Zelenka utterly stunned with the man's abilities, and also shaken at its implications. "But there are too many possibilities to narrow it down to a respectable number."

"Well how "too many" is too many?" Sheppard asked.

"The cone of the area of space that Atlantis's worm hole encompassed measures twenty billion, billion, billion, billion miles deep and wide. Within that cone there exist perhaps one hundred million stars. Within those the possibility of planets that could support life to some degree runs into the hundreds of thousands."

Elizabeth could see where this was going. "So you're saying Rodney could be on any one of hundreds of thousands of planets."

Zelenka still wasn't finished. "If he made it to a planet – yes. And only a small fraction of those would be able to support human life for any length of time, some would naturally be too hot, too cold, too large, and then there's the problem that some would have atmospheres too thick, too thin, or the wrong chemical mix - or the right atmosphere but no plant or animal life, or all ocean or even all land but no water.

"And then of course there are the molten rock and gas giant planets that would kill him in an insta – "Zelenka stopped short. He had not meant to remind them all, least of all himself, that Rodney could very well already be dead.

Weir rubbed her palms together and then clasped them under her chin. She reminded Sheppard of a person in prayer. "I understand Doctor Zelenka." She said sadly. "We...get the picture."

Zelenka now told them the part that bothered him the most. "He had no time to narrow it down, you see. Writing a program to filter out every harmful planet or moon would have used up more time than he had, so he wrote a simpler code that by necessity encompassed a wider range of planetary bodies but one that would give him at least some chance to survive." If only Rodney had had another few seconds...

Sheppard didn't have to ask the last question, but decided to simply speak his mind for all to hear. "And I'm right in guessing that we can't just stay here all comfy cozy and track his location through the worm-hole itself, can we? We'll have to check out all these hundreds of thousands of planets individually."

Zelenka nodded miserably and then stared at his hands. His nails were bitten to the quick. "Yes. Because Rodney collapsed the second worm-hole by entering it, no addresses from Atlantis's Stargate would reach him anyway. Once the worm-hole ceased to exist, whatever addresses we might have been able to discover in order to search for him became useless."

Weir had an idea. "What if we re-create the worm hole?"

Zelenka nodded. "Yes, we already thought of that but it would not be the _same_ worm-hole. That one, once Rodney collapsed it, ceased to exist. If we create another it will be an all new worm-hole, plus the original problems of containment would still apply. We would face the same danger as before."

"Then how do you know that Rodney is on _any_ of the hundred thousand planets?" Sheppard pointed out.

Zelenka hated to say it. "Well, we don't. Based on Rodney's formula, he _might_ be. And the number is more likely _several_ hundred thousand planets, so the odds that we can find him are-"

"Don't tell me the odds!" Sheppard snapped at the scientist. It wasn't entirely Zelenka's fault. He knew that. Sheppard paced Weir's spacious office. But it was _mostly_ his fault and now Rodney could be dead or dying or... Sheppard said "Radek, after careful consideration I've decided that this experiment of yours _sucks_."

Weir spoke up. "John, that's enough."

Sheppard swallowed. "Okay, then tell us genius: is he at least still in _this_ universe?"

Zelenka considered it. "Most likely, yes."

"Most likely? Great." Sheppard shook his head and resumed his pacing. "That's just great."

Weir had not expected the news to be so bad. But she was still the leader of the Atlantis expedition and right now her people, so devastated by the loss of their friend and colleague, needed a boost. They needed something to hold on to as, if not a hope, a memory to keep them in place and ready to do whatever was necessary no matter what happened next. Even if it meant that ultimately they could not get Rodney back.

"Doctor Zelenka, what would have happened if Rodney had not done what he did, if he had not closed the worm hole?"

Zelenka sighed. What Rodney had done was, as far as he knew, unprecedented. No one had ever tried to collapse a worm-hole using their own body. He may have had to pay for his selfless act with his life. Zelenka did not voice those thoughts. "He knew what he was doing Elizabeth. Rodney knew that if we could not shut it down – and he obviously believed we would not have been able to - then it would have expanded in the next few seconds or minutes and consumed us, the Jumper, the city, and maybe the entire planet.

"I'd like to add that if any other of us had tried, it would not have worked, we would still all be dead. The negatively charged energy inside the worm hole needed a specific amount of positively charged matter to close it. Rodney's mass fit the bill perfectly. He was not too big or too small. It was a brilliant strategy. Honestly I-I..." Zelenka shook his head sadly. "I don't know how he came up with it." His admiration was clear and, despite his and McKay's history of butting heads, there was genuine affection in his tone.

So Rodney had been _just right_. "Not too big and not too small." Sheppard parroted under his breath, being reminded of an old fairy tale. In the original telling, things didn't end well for the human.

Zelenka offered his last word. "I'm sorry Elizabeth. I wish the news was better. I wish he was here." Zelenka said. "To thank I mean." he added. "Rodney saved us."

Elizabeth nodded. She knew. They all did. "Thank you Radek."

XXX

As she entered the tower, Elizabeth Weir walked to the main control consol and asked the young crewman "What's going on Josh? And why has the cloak been raised?"

Josh, a young bright engineer replied "A Wraith Hive just appeared on the edge of our sensor reach."

Weir could feel her heart rate double and her blood pressure suddenly spike. She cursed all Wraith. "What's it doing?"

"Nothing. It popped in from hyperspace a moment ago and now it's just sitting there."

_That won't last long_ Weir thought. "Any indications of what it might do?"

Josh shook his head. "Not so far. I can detect no scans, no weapons testing, no engine power, no Darts, no activity of any kind."

"Thank god for small favors." Weir muttered. "Let's hope they're dead in space." She commented.

Josh nodded once. "Dead in every way would be even better."

"Yes." She turned away from the tiny blip on the screen. A tiny, dangerous and no doubt ravenous blip. "Let me know the second anything changes. And keep that cloak up."

"Yes ma'am." Josh's voice called her back. "Doctor Weir. Colonel Sheppard's Jumper is waiting to return home. It's his Gate-signature coming through."

"Very well. Drop the Gate's shield, and please tell him to join me in my office when he's ready."

Weir waited until Sheppard arrived before she poured herself a cup of coffee. Offering one to him, he accepted and took a seat opposite her desk. "By the look on your face," she began "I don't need to ask if your trip was successful."

Sheppard sipped the inky beverage. He shrugged. "Another five planets down, a hundred thousand or so to go. We saw what looked like Earth-type pyramids on one of them though – in complete ruins of course."

"Probably ancients." She speculated. "They seemed to have gotten their fingers into everything in this galaxy, but they were lousy house keepers. We've got all the ruins we could ever need but with all the mess you'd think they could have left a few more ZPM's lying around."

Sheppard allowed himself a very small smile but the humor never reached as far as his eyes. Their gentle back and forth banter that used to help ease the strain of the pressures of their mutual careers, now felt forced and hollow.

They were helpless, he knew. Cross off another five planets where Rodney wasn't. It was an impossibly long list Sheppard thought, not for the first time. He had been looking for Rodney for seven months and in that time he or his team had scanned one hundred and forty-three planets. When the team was occupied with other duties, he went alone whenever he could. Any time he was off duty, or when he had a few spare hours between routine missions, when others were on leave he'd grab a Jumper and spend hours checking out one planet after another - any time, actually, that he wasn't sleeping or when they could spare the power for the Stargate; power that was increasingly becoming a premium. It was a cost they soon were going to have to calculate against using the Stargate for anything other than their most urgent needs.

"John..." Weir began, broaching the subject of the power consumption once more, and a search that was swiftly becoming a Hail Mary task.

"We'll _find_ him." Sheppard answered.

Weir lowered her eyes to her cup and then forced her by now customary though stiff, little smile of confidence. She looked at him. "Yes. Yes we will."

XXX

Sheppard let the hot water sluice his aches away. Nine hours he had spent in the seat of the Jumper – with small breaks now and then to stretch or empty his bladder.

Sheppard refused to let the fatigue or stiff muscles bother him. McKay had spent those seven months god-knew-where so a few sore muscles were nothing to complain about. Sheppard shed his uniform and stepped into the bottom half of a pair of blue cotton pajamas. Slipping between the sheets he tried not to let his mind speculate where Rodney might be spending the night. He chuckled as a vision of Rodney "trapped" on a paradise planet with ten naked women feeding him grapes and caramels. If he found Rodney on a planet like that, neither of them might come back to Atlantis.

Sheppard allowed himself to enjoy the vision for a few seconds. But, as always, it was quickly nudged aside by more likely scenarios of Rodney failing to find enough food, dying of thirst under the rays of a red giant or being torn to shreds by carnivorous monsters.

"Dammit." Sheppard scolded his own imagination and sat up again. Now it would be hard to fall asleep.

XXX

For the fourth long night in a row, Rodney found himself having to scramble onto the wet rocks to avoid the claws of the creatures he had decided to call Nocturnal Goliath Beetles after a similar species on earth. These, however, were the biggest beetles he had ever seen, each a half meter across and, in contrast to the harmless Earth variety, these carnivorous monsters apparently liked his smell well enough to have hunted him every night since his arrival. Luckily their talon-ed "fingers" could not get a grip on the slippery stone "hills". Rodney counted his lucky stars that he had stumbled upon the one place of safety in the vast expanse of the scrub brush desert where the worm-hole had spit him out.

The nights here were upwards of twenty hours in duration, the days as long. In the moonless dark it was cold and damp, and in the day burning hot and dry. The night air chilled him to the bone and the sun parched him. The gravity here was twice that of Atlantis and the air thinner. It seemed to be a planet of contrasts.

He shivered as he watched the last rays of the sun disappear behind the endless stretch of flat, arid landscape. At least now he could lap up the many small cashes of water that pooled in the depressions in the rocks. It was his only source of fluid thus far. He had eaten no food since the errant worm-hole had dumped him out onto this god-forsaken unknown planet. He was so hungry!

Rodney didn't recognise the planet. There was nothing specific enough about it to spark any clear recollections but then again he had seen a great many non-specific planets during his time with the Atlantis expedition.

Already the cold was creeping under his thin uniform. Rodney curled up into as tight a ball as he could manage and, while the rocks cut into his hips, tried to find a few hours sleep. He wondered if they were looking for him.

XXX

"John we have no choice!"

"It's only been a year." He argued. "He could still be out there somewhere. I can't believe you're giving up on him." She wasn't of course, and he knew it. But his instincts railed against abandoning the search. He wasn't being fair on Elizabeth, but he couldn't help himself. "Rodney wouldn't have given up until his last breath to save this city and you _know_ it. He saved all of us in case you've forgotten." Of course she hadn't.

"I am _not_ giving up on him. We can continue the search once we've restored more power to the city, but we're down to our last reserves. We have to keep the cloak up. Every week another Hive ship arrives."

"The reserves are stocked up. We can spare another few trips through the Stargate." She was right about the Hive ships. There were six in total now, all hanging on the edge of their sensors, all lying as still as 'possums. It was eerie. Sheppard liked a good stand-up fight, not all this lying in wait stuff. He was itching to _do_ something.

"I disagree."Weir countered. "You know what will happen if the Wraith discover us. The Daedelus will be no match for _six_ Hive ships. Rodney sacrificed himself to save Atlantis and we all owe him John, but he is one man. There are dozens of people on Atlantis and I am responsible for their lives."

"So Rodney's expendable?"

Weir looked not angry now but hurt. "That's not fair. I care about Rodney too, but he can't be my only concern and you know it."

Sheppard knew he had stepped over the line. He also knew that Weir didn't deserve it. Throwing himself into a chair he rubbed his face furiously with both hands. "I...I know." He waved away his own frustration. "I know." Softly "I'm _sorry_ Elizabeth." It was a weak apology but it was all he had. Dispiritedly "How long before we have ZPM power back?"

"Zelenka's working on it."

_Not as fast as if Rodney._ Sheppard felt useless. He stood up. "Maybe I'll go see if he needs a hand." He was no engineer or scientist and knew he'd be as useless there as he was anywhere else at the present time. The Hive ships were doing nothing but sitting motionless in space. Maybe the damn things were hibernating? If so, he thought wistfully, couldn't they have chosen a better spot, like on the other side of the galaxy? At any rate they were not being a threat - yet - and now he couldn't search for Rodney either and that meant he had nothing to do.

XXX

"Yes but you know almost everyone's glad he's gone."

Sheppard paused in his travel to McKay's lab, except it was Zelenka's lab now, as he had been promoted to Lead Scientific Advisor in Rodney's absence. The voices were coming from somewhere around the corner. Probably one of the auxiliary control junctions Zelenka had a few of his team working on, trying to find more and more imaginative ways to conserve power.

Another voice protested, but not in earnest. "Come on, Roger, that's not nice. McKay wasn't so bad."

"He wasn't so _good_ either." Sheppard recognised it as Abigail Brewster, one of Zelenka's newly promoted assistants. Prior to working along-side Zelenka, Rodney had had her delegated to non-vital areas and duties. The two science heads had argued often regarding her abilities. Rodney liked to test his new assistants out by metaphorical fire-bombing them with impossible duties before granting them more rigorous responsibilities. Zelenka was more lenient towards fresh faces, believing that regularly assigned new tasks promoted enthusiasm and allowed them to acquire the necessary experience.

Sheppard had summed McKay's complaints about it as: When it came to Atlantis and her precious technology, Rodney was a control freak and Zelenka wasn't.

A different voice, a younger man perhaps without the experience to know any better, said "I heard McKay was bi-polar or something. Maybe even a bit schizoid."

"McKay was an ego-inflated ass." Said voice Number One.

"Come on, guys, that's not nice."

The first voice, the one that Sheppard had first heard, countered with "What - you afraid to speak ill of the dead?"

That was about all he could stand and Sheppard appeared around the corner without warning, walking right up to them; getting right in their faces; his eyes blazing. "He's _not_ dead!" Sheppard recognised the guy now. "_Barry." _He said the name like it was a family embarrassment.

Sheppard glared at them all, his lips grim, keeping his fists clenched tight so as to resist punching someone in the nose. "And in case you missed the memo, Rodney McKay saved all of our asses. So I'd better not hear any more disparaging remarks about him from any one of you. In fact if I even hear a hint of a rumor of disrespect tossed McKay's way, I'll personally put every last one of you on report and you can kiss any second tour on Atlantis goodbye. You got that? Am I getting through to any of you?"

All were frozen in place, their mouths clamped shut. Sheppard didn't wait around to hear any lame apologies. Instead he turned on his heel and walked back the way he came. He would be no use to Zelenka anyway.

Sheppard did what he usually did when the tension was getting to him; he took Ronan up on some friendly sparring.

Ronan, his enormous hands encased in the relatively soft padding of the sparring gloves easily dodged Sheppard's less focused pokes. Ronan waited until he had an opening and swung hard, sending Sheppard to the mat on all fours. Sheppard pounded one furious fist down hard and then staggered to his feet again.

"You're off your game." Ronan said. At bare hand to hand combat, Ronan could usually best Sheppard but in boxing Sheppard was the faster and more experienced opponent. Except for today.

Sheppard bent over double, winded. He'd been spending too much time sitting in the Jumper and not enough keeping in shape. He looked up at Ronan. "Bad day."

Ronan asked "Any word on when we can start looking for McKay again?"

Sheppard shook his head. "Not enough power yet." He started to untie his gloves. "The Daedelus is trying to make a trade with the Shah-vites..." At the crinkle in Ronan's brow, Sheppard clarified "Allies of the Genii who supposedly have a ZPM. No word yet."

Sheppard towelled his face off and took a seat on a bench against the wall. Ronan joined him. "He's okay you know."

Sheppard was starting to have his doubts. It had been nearly two years now. Soon after the search had begun Zelenka had written a program to sift out the frankly hostile worlds since if Rodney had ended up on one of those, he'd have been killed instantly. And if that was indeed the case, they would be unable to retrieve his body anyway. That left just under one hundred thousand possible worlds where Rodney might be marooned. Sheppard was losing hope. The worst part was he had no idea how close he and Rodney had become, no inkling about how much the man's friendship had meant, until he was no longer around to receive it.

And Ronan was right, he felt off his game, and not just recently. It had been building for a long while. He knew it was because a member of his team had disappeared under his watch, and not just a member, a friend. His best friend. A few years back Sheppard had been shocked to awaken to that realization. Rodney was his best friend and such an animal was a new experience for John Sheppard. John had always fancied himself as a likeable guy, a good leader, and a loyal pal. A back-slapping buddy to all but close friend to none.

And one day Rodney McKay, all high pitched whining and ridiculous brain, had casually strolled through the Stargate and into his life and turned John Sheppard's carefully controlled, predictable life up-side-down. Missing Rodney didn't just feel uncomfortable, it _hurt_.

Sheppard hardly ever spoke of personal things to Ronan. Never had shared his feelings or his private heart.

As though reading his mind "We all miss him, Sheppard, but I know for you its worse." Ronan stood. "Because it's _Rodney_." He added and in that single word he let John know that he understood. The tall, intensely private Satedan obviously saw a lot more than he let on and then Ronan did something he had never done before, not _ever_; he laid one giant hand on Sheppard's shoulder - to comfort him. It was a first.

"Don't lose hope, Sheppard. We're _going_ to find him."

XXX

Part III soon


	3. Chapter 3

_**Sometime...Somehow... Part III **_

Hunting the beetles came as easy to him now as long division used to be. His pocket knife, his shoes which had worn through the soles in places, his clothing which were ragged and torn and, of course, his transponder, the most valuable treasure of all, were his only possessions. Rodney kept them all safe in his pockets, or buried in the sand in his cave. But the transponder he kept on him at all times. The transponder was protected above all else. It was his life and hope. He assumed it was still working but there was no way to tell.

His little knife, the blade rusty and dinted from so much use, easily sliced into the upturned creature, bisecting it down the middle. The dark juices of its flesh he swiftly drank; it was the only source of fat in his diet and no liquid that was safe to drink was ever wasted. The beetle's internal organs he mashed into a paste and mixed with the juice of the High Ground Plant, a low growing leafy thing reminiscent of beet tops which roots forced its way right into the rock.

Rodney had once thought to assign the plant a more scientific and proper designation, something in Latin or German, but laughed at himself for how silly he was being. Why bother when it was a genus of exactly one? At least it grew abundantly, its stalks filled with sweet nectar which made the beetle protein much more palatable. Without any extra thought on the matter, Rodney knew he was getting a certain level of vitamin C from the plant since he had not developed any of the illnesses resulting from a lack of it.

Score one for the cast-away. The sorely needed proteins derived from the beetle meat, and whatever fat was present in its body juices; this made up the bulk of his food intake.

In the relative safety of his crawl-space in the Big Mountain, Rodney mashed the flesh with the juices and began eating. His thoughts strayed to food most of the time, and to being warm at night, and to water, and to the hunting of bugs.

But most of all his mind and eyes went to the sky where after nearly three years he still hoped to see a ship. Sometimes he swore he could hear one slicing through the air like a great silver bird, sending out to him its great cry of battle, like a Thunderbird's call when it soars above the plains. But it was just the bitter wind singing through Dune Valley.

No birds flew here that he had ever seen. The circumference of the planet had to be twice that of earth for, when he climbed to the pinnacle of his Big Mountain, he estimated he could see beyond forty miles. On Earth it was twenty miles or so. On Atlantis, twenty-two-point-nine-five-seven-one.

He finished his meal and the empty shell of the Goliath Beetle was tossed onto the growing pile at the very rear of his cave. He had begun saving them when it seemed shameful to waste such a gourde-like receptacle. A few he used, once they were dried out, to collect the water that ran down the sides of Shaded Cliff during the hours of the morning just as the first light of Big Red clamped down on the desert and took the water away into vapour again, but just _after_ the Goliath Beetles had buried themselves back in their sand burrows to wait out the heat of the day. After so many days of hunting, however, he had accumulated exactly one thousand, six hundred – and with today's addition – fifty-_three_ of the bug shells. He averaged one good meal every thirty-five hours. The bugs were highly nutritious, as it turned out.

His mind did its thing and churned out the data even when he wasn't really thinking about anything at all. One night and day equaled almost fifty hours, the planet travelled around Big Red once every three-hundred and six Earth days. He had been on the planet forty-one thousand, three hundred-ten hours, or one thousand, seven-hundred, twenty-one Atlantis days.

Rodney shook his head to rid it of the useless numbers, and kicked his sleeping pile of shards into better form. At least the damn shells had multi-uses. Hundreds he had crushed underfoot and made a bed of springy pieces to lay on. Not as soft as a mattress but not as hard as the sand floor of the cave. If he had to go out in the day for any reason, he wore one as a protective hat. Still the ends of his hair had bleached out from the sun. His hair had not been this sandy-blonde since he was two.

Rodney shook his head. "Gourds, bug-juice, a cave...you've moved up in the world Rodney." Rodney forced his thoughts away from anything of this place, and yet he tried to never think of Atlantis and its cool water, shining towers and trays of food that rivalled the fare served in Earth's best restaurants. And he tried to never think too much o-of..._them_. It made his heart race and his throat hurt.

But two years-plus on such a lean diet had trimmed his body-fat down to barely acceptable standards for minimal health. The gravity of his new planet (which he had named Gobi Prime in honor of its harsh climate with baking days, bitterly cold night winds, sparse animal and plant life, and water-poor deserts), instead of bulking up his muscles had toned them to coiled ribbons of steel. He supposed Becket would be mostly pleased.

The ironic humor of it hit him and Rodney laughed aloud in the crawl space. His own voice sounded strange to him now and he rarely spoke. At first he had talked all the time, he remembered, back in The City. Among _them_ he had almost never shut-up really.

Then, here, to himself, he had spoken words and words, conversations with the memories of The Team (none of whom were now present and accounted for), but after a few months he decided that it was a sign that he was losing his mind. So he did not talk to his friends so for a while. The isolation, though, was an agony and he soon found himself having entirely new conversations with them. What the hell. No one was there to see him go crazy.

Rodney chewed the last of the stringiest parts of mostly-salty-slightly-sweet bug flesh and halted his thoughts. He didn't want to think right now. On good days, when there was enough food to satisfy him or when the night wasn't as cold as it usually was, he welcomed them into his cave. All except for Jennie. He would never bring his sister here. Rodney suddenly realised that he hadn't contacted her! She would be upset with him about that.

"I must remember to send her a message when I get back." He spoke aloud, and was surprised at how weak he sounded. "Your voice is getting old, McKay." Rodney said again, chuckling just a little. "Oh shut-up Rodney! What do _you_ know?"

XXX

Weir strolled into Zelenka's lab. She realised one day that she had stopped thinking about it as Rodney's lab. Zelenka had been made Atlantis's Lead Scientific Advisor months ago. It was official. Still, it was unsettling to realise she had started to forget Rodney. No longer did she turn a corner and expect to see him marching to lunch or rounding a corner while going at it hard in an uncomfortably loud disagreement with one of his technicians, oblivious to everything else.

Zelenka had earned his promotion and he worked tirelessly to prove himself worthy. Weir suspected he was doing his best to fill the shoes of his absent mentor, or perhaps to ease the now distant ache of his conscience. "Doctor Zelenka," She asked upon entering, "How goes it?"

Zelenka turned, his eyes bright from lack of sleep, but also from, they seemed to say, success. "The ZPM is ready to try. It won't hold a full charge anymore, but we can probably get it up to forty percent."

Weir was pleased. Atlantis had been limping by on dwindling reserves for far too long. "That's excellent. Good work, Radek. I'll tell everyone the news. They'll be so pleased." She looked at him fondly. He was a good man. Perhaps not as brilliant as McKay but he worked as hard and sometimes harder, and he never complained. Plus his team loved him.

Now she had to break the other news to Sheppard. He would not be so pleased.

Understandably Sheppard was unhappy. "So that's it?"

Weir knew Sheppard had taken Rodney's loss harder than anyone and it showed. Where-as the old Sheppard sported an easy manner, liked to laugh and was in general an optimistic person, this Sheppard was a still reflection of him. This Sheppard had lost his quick wit, worked himself to exhaustion and spent his few hours off-duty training by himself. This Sheppard was all business and no play.

Weir had to look away. His eyes were hurt and angry - at her for the most part. "I have no choice but to shut it down. The ZPM is back but not to full power. We can't afford to waste –"

"_Waste?"_

Weir sighed. They'd had this discussion before. "You know what I mean, John. If the Wraith attack-"

"-those ships have been sitting there for two years and more. _If _they were going to attack, they would have by now. They don't know we're here."

"You can't know that for certain. Neither our scanners nor the Daedelus's has been able to penetrate the hulls to find out for certain. There could be hibernating Wraith inside those ships."

"Well, if the IOA had any brains, they'd have let us scout-out the damn ships long ago to find out. But instead we sit here and wait." Sheppard shook his head at all idiot bureaucrats everywhere. "What the hell are we waiting for I'd like to know?"

They had shared this conversation too. Weir felt the slow, depressing futility of it all. Rodney was gone. Most likely he was dead and John Sheppard was the only one who refused to believe that. But then he was a man of material things. He believed his eyes, he felt with his hands and his heart, not with science or probable numbers regurgitated from a politician's report. Throwing up his hands on the search for Rodney was not in league with the man's nature, he would fight that inevitability to his last breath. Rodney McKay was his friend and the colonel did _not_ leave a man behind.

"John, I want you to take some leave." Before realising she'd said it, the words were out there, and Weir sucked in a breath.

Sheppard's expression was so shocked; he didn't even blink for a few seconds. "Y-you want me to take _leave_?" He stared at her like she'd just grown an extra head. His expression then quickly changed to one of a man upon whom the light had dawned. "You think I'm off-base with this, don't you? You think I might jeopardize Atlantis; that maybe I'm becoming obsessive and would rather look for Rodney than do my duty to this city and these people, well you're _wrong_, Doctor Weir."

"I don't think any of those things, John, but I know an unhappy and _exhausted_ man when I see him."

Sheppard stared back, making no denials.

Weir decided to compromise. "One week. Just one week. Go to Earth, see your family, sit on a beach somewhere and read a book. In the meantime I'll make an appeal to the President and see if I can't get you a few more weeks to search - deal?"

Sheppard, hands on hips and body language so taut she wondered how he was freely breathing, finally nodded his _acquiescence_**.** "One week." He agreed. "But I need...I just need to _know_, Elizabeth. Y'know?"

Yes, she knew that. Even if what Sheppard found turned out to be only...remains. That at least would give him his _mission accomplished_. Not the end he wished for but an end at least, although it all meant much, much more to him than that. Weir nodded. "I know, and I'm sorry."

Rodney may have been gone, but his ghost still haunted one man.

XXX

Once at dusk they came; the noise; the power; the machine; the Great Thunderbird of his deliverance.

Rodney crawled from his cave to greet the glorious call of the silver bird high in the sky as it flashed to life from the magic portal of the air. But its beak broke into his world already screaming and Rodney knew this was not the beautiful Thunderbird he had been waiting for but a cruel monster hungry for flesh of his particular sort. Rodney dropped to the hard rock, sending pebbles skittering down the face of Shaded Cliff like frightened mice.

His heart had been happy, joyous - thrilled! - for a breath or two, and had then flooded with terror and loathing at the winged killer as it came to earth not a half mile from Mount McKay. It was familiar and not. It's shape recognizable but wrong. Somehow..._wrong_ but he could not remember why.

When the monster was sleeping its bleached children left their mother and wandered here and there. One held up a machine and Rodney remembered that it was a Scanner. If he remained where he was, it would find him. But he dare not move or he would be seen immediately.

Minutes went by and the creatures he remembered as Wraith started walking toward Mount McKay. But Big Red was dipping behind the jagged desert rock and the beetles were already stirring unseen beneath their booted feet. In a moment the hungry bugs began to emerge from their sand-holes. The two Wraith stopped and watched the bugs become tens become dozens become hundreds. They fired upon them with their weapons of light but the beetles kept coming anyway. The Wraith turned and ran back in the direction of their mother.

One was too slow and was brought down by a bug's fleeting jump and heavy strike. Several of the beetle's poison-filled claws ripped into the Wraith's fleshy buttock. Within seconds the Wraith began thrashing on the desert floor, his voice screaming in misery. Then he lay still and the beetles were upon him in a swarm, their black shells blocking out the grey and white skin of the Wraith's body. They ate him alive.

There would be only bones by morning.

The silver Dart rose in a cloud of sand and disappeared into the portal called Worm-hole. Only then did Rodney allow himself to express the grief he well deserved, shedding tears enough to vent his sorrow but not so many so to deplete his body fluids. There was no freedom here.

He walked back to his cave. Examining the body of the Wraith and its implements would have to wait until dawn.

XXX

Weir told Sheppard the good news as soon as he was back from leave. "We have been granted, finally, to take several teams on Jumpers to the Wraith ships providing Zelenka and his team can retro-fit all the Jumpers with cloaks."

She held up a hand at the sudden chatter and high-five's that erupted from the military gathering in her office. As a group they were fed up with the IAO's watchwords of the last three years - "reasonable caution" (which most of the troops heard as "bureaucratic cowardice"), and they were all chomping at the bit.

She underlined it for them. "This operation is under colonel Sheppard's command in league with Colonel Caldwell on the Daedelus. You will fly the Jumpers to the Daedelus first and only then will you approach the Hive ships. You will board whether or not your instruments detect life signs. If there are, you will do everything in your power not to alert the Wraith to your presence if that is at all possible. And in the event that you do find living or hibernating Wraith inside, you are to deliver a nuclear war-head to each of your designated ships, and then get the hell out. Detonate once all the Jumpers have cleared the blast zone and are on their way back to the Daedelus. Any questions?"

Sheppard had come back from his leave little refreshed an anxious to get on with the business of his duties. And to find Rodney. Permission to recon the Hive ships was just a bonus. The massive Wraith ships had sat in space just on the edge of Atlantis's scanners for over two years, unmoving and un-approached.

It was time to shit or get off the toilet.

XXX

Sheppard checked the Jumper's scanners and reported back to Atlantis. "According to this, there's a bare minimum of air inside, and some sections are opened to space. We'll have to get Zelenka's guys in there to try and boost the oxygen levels in the areas still viable, if we even come to that." _If the damn thing works at all._ Ideally finding a working, abandoned Wraith ship was a boon but they had only been_ that_ lucky once.

Sheppard and his team indeed found the ship abandoned. "Weir, this is Sheppard."

"_Go ahead."_

"All my teams have reported in and we've looked through every part of the ships we can safely get to; there are no Wraith present, living, hibernating or just plain dead."

Sheppard could hear Elizabeth breathe a sigh of relief over the open comm. _"Looks like our luck is holding for now. What do you think - can we salvage any of the ships, or at least some of the technology? Any weapons or perchance a ZPM someone forgot to pack?" _

John felt a rush of warmth for his leader. Their friendly banter had returned and he for one was not sorry. Weir had a wry sense of humor and he had missed that. "Sorry, boss. Guess our luck's not_ that_ good." But that the ships had simply been abandoned in space was a ripe bit of luck. He guessed even the Wraith needed a dumping ground here and there, and Atlantis's world did seem to be along a main travel route for the hated creatures. At least they didn't have to blow the rotting hulks to kingdom come. He said as much to Weir.

"_At least that's something. We can save the bombs for another day. See what you can salvage and then tell your teams to hurry home."_

"Aye-aye. Sheppard out"

Weir closed the link and returned to her office. Finally she could relax a little. They had all become so used to the tension of the lurking Hive ships she had almost forgotten what it was like to feel at ease.

Weir poured herself a finely brewed coffee, adding a generous dollop of real cream._ Finally we can get back to our lives._

XXX

The Wraith bones had been picked clean. Rodney took no delight in the suffering and death of the Wraith. Neither was he sorry to have watched it die. It was simply a thing that happened. You died or you didn't here. There was no orchestra to mark either event.

The uniform of the life-sucker had not been to their taste and the bugs had left it alone. Rodney shook the sand from each piece of the dead Wraith's clothing, piling every item in his arms and carrying them back to his cave on Mount Rodney. Last night he had decided to change the name of his mountain from McKay to Rodney. It was only right. McKay insisted on thinking about everything all the time, but Rodney did all the work!

He sorted through the clothing. The shiny stockings he would save for wearing only on the coldest nights, to make them last as long as possible. The thin tunic was hardly fit for a covering but he supposed he could make use of it some other way, to filter the worst of the grit and "floaties" out of his water perhaps. The shoulder pads were made of thick leather-like material and would make excellent new soles for his shoes. If the boots had been two sizes larger, he would have simple worn them, but he supposed their weird metal construct would have given him blisters anyway. And he could save the tough material for other things.

The Wraith had carried no other tools but for a small hand weapon. Rodney knew it was similar to Ronan's Satedan-engineered blaster. Using its energy for hunting would be foolish since he had already become skilled at killing the jumping Goliath Beetles mid-air with a couple swipes of his knife.

Perhaps he would use it to start a fire. Having a warm fire at night or being able to cook his food would be luxuries. But then he remembered that there were virtually no combustible materials anywhere to be found. He supposed he could try drying the leaves of the High Ground plant and burning those when he had enough of them, but he didn't want to over-harvest and risk depleting the precious vegetable. It was his only source of Vitamin C, and the only thing he had to make the Goliaths taste good.

Perhaps then he would use it to signal a ship, if one ever came again. Rodney stuck the weapon deep into one of the metal boots, dug a hole in the hard sand of the cave and buried it. The other boot he would use to gather water. He could store almost two litres in a boot this big.

He would drink from a silver boot. Rodney was the star in his own fairy tale and he laughed aloud in the confines of the cave, but the sandstone walls swiftly gobbled up the sounds. Rodney hardly noticed his words anymore. His ears listened for running water, wind, bugs...they recoiled from his own voice, and mocked the rare bouts of hysterical laughter they sometimes heard at night on the mountain when he felt the most lonely.

It was McKay laughing, he guessed. But McKay was an idiot. What was there to laugh about?

XXX

Zelenka was almost finished his calculations. With this new program in place, Atlantis would be able to squeeze another twelve percent of power out of the ZPM and some of that could be siphoned off as stored energy for future needs. "Janice?" He said to his assistant.

She left her computer station and walked over to him. "Yes, Doctor Zelenka?"

Zelenka glanced over to her. Janice was nice but her glasses magnified her eyes out of proportion to her face. She peered at him with an owlish expression. "Um, would you take these results to Doctor Weir and let her know we're ready to hook up the ZPM again."

"Yes doctor." Janice disappeared.

Not twenty seconds later, Zelenka heard a scream and raced out into the dim corridor. Janice was on the floor, a creature the size of his forearm attached to her neck, its black and silver body pulsing obscenely. Janice was staring up at the ceiling in deep shock. Janice was still alive and Zelenka recognised the creature. "Oh my god..."

Zelenka raised the alarm.

XXX

Weir bit her bottom lip until it hurt. "An _Iratus_ bug." She breathed the name again so her ears would not deny her. "Iratus bug, my god...how could this happen?" After all they'd been through. After all the sacrifices, the sleepless nights and the exhaustive efforts to keep going they get _this!_

And Luck, that capricious bitch, had finally turned her traitorous face their way and was now about-facing, leaving them behind once more... "_How_ did they get into Atlantis?"

Sheppard shook his head. "Thankfully it's not _they_ yet, there's only the one. Zelenka's teams and mine are scoping the city to find if there are any more. With any luck..."

Weir had to laugh, and rubbed tired eyes. "With any luck..." It was a running joke now, on all of them. "John," she said. "You know what it means if..."

Sheppard nodded. He had his weapon's safety on but he still held the semi-automatic rifle well ready to fire if without warning the need should arise. "Believe me, I know." With a shiver he recalled his bout with an Iratus "infection" he had acquired via an experimental retro-virus from the creature Ellia, infusing the essence of Wraith and Iratus physiology into him. Becket's magic medicines had stopped the advancement of his transformation, finally eradicating all traces of it from his human cells. There was no way to tell if this Iratus bug was the normal variety or the genetically altered one from Beckett's research.

The memory was not one he cared to dwell on and ever since then he hated all Wraith _and_ all bugs. If it had bad teeth or crawled on the ground he either shot it or stepped on it. "If there are any more, we'll find them Elizabeth. _Count _on it."

XXX

Rodney looked back. The body of the Goliath beetle lay in two halves where he had left it. But it had left its mark on him too and his back stung horribly. His vision was swimming in the early dawn and his limbs were screaming at him to stop moving. Every twitch brought a rushing fire of pain from his centre to the tips of his fingers and toes.

McKay chastised him for being so clumsy and Rodney yelled back "Well you weren't exactly any help! You and your stupid need t-to analyzing eh-everything." Another spasm clamped his jaw down and for many seconds the only sound that escaped his lips was a pitiful whine. Finally it passed. "You see? _You see?_ You get me into trouble _every_ time."

Besides it hadn't been _his_ fault at all. The new soles on his shoes McKay had fashioned had caught the edge of a small rock and sent him sprawling to the sand. A Goliath beetle, awakened from its sleep, had emerged and with one lightening fast jump, had hooked one claw into the skin of his back, cutting a foot-long swath nearly to the bone, but Rodney had righted himself in time to take the creature out with a well placed blade.

Forgetting about saving the flesh of the bug for an extra meal, he had stumbled back to Mount Rodney and the safety of his cave.

Tears were falling and Rodney couldn't see who was crying. It _had_ to be McKay. "You sniveling moron! It's all your fault and now all you can do is sit around and cry like a bab –_A-H-H!" _Another spasm pinched off his throat. Words never worked against McKay anyway. He always found some excuse to keep studying or exploring or _thinking_.

"Way-waste o-of time and f-for _what?"_ Rodney gasped. He should not have listened to McKay. He should have insisted they stay in the cave until Big Red was well in the sky, but McKay was a coward and did not answer him.

When Rodney came to, McKay was gone. The pain had subsided enough for him to sit up on his backside. The Goliath had got only one claw into him so only a small amount of poison had entered his system. Rodney saw that as a bit of luck, but he had never felt such pain in his life and now he was soaked in sweat and shaking with fatigue. Plus it was already dark once more. He had wasted an entire day being unconscious.

"Now I can't get water until tomorrow." Rodney complained. "That's right McKay!" He shouted out the cave opening. It echoed off the sand hills and was lost in the distance. "You'd better run!" Rodney scratched around in the dark for the silver socks and found one, wiping his face with it. "Good riddance." He muttered.

XXX

"You've swept the entire city?" Weir asked. "And there are no more?" Could they be this fortunate? "Are you absolutely certain?"

Sheppard had to concede "There are places aboard Atlantis the bugs could hide, but there is no way any bug or eggs could possibly survive in those locations."

Zelenka added his knowledge to the discussion. "Colonel Sheppard's correct. The only places we haven't searched are the ZPM conduits and the power stores. Nothing would be able to live in such an environment - the radiation _alone_ - it would be impossible."

Weir looked at her two most trusted people. Impossible things had happened well before that day. "John, I need to know for certain that there are no more Iratus bugs in Atlantis."

Sheppard shrugged, helpless. "I can't give a guarantee. All I can assure you is the teams were very, _very_ thorough."

"I will take you at your word of course but..." She knew she was sounding paranoid, "but the Hive ships..."

"...were thoroughly searched as well. We found nothing. Not even a single egg sac. They're clean. And the Jumpers were checked as well. Nothing could have gotten on board without us knowing about it."

She was forced to concede "So the bug was here all the time." It was the only conclusion.

"It must have escaped from Beckett's lab and held up in a hole somewhere until now - an over-sight." Sheppard allowed. "Not a _good_ oversight but at least we caught it in time."

Weir had questioned Beckett on it. "Doctor Beckett still insists that is not the case."

Sheppard did not know what to tell her. "Look - maybe one of Beckett's lab guys doesn't want to admit that he or she screwed up and one of the bugs accidently got out, or one of the eggs somehow made its way out of the lab on someone's shoe."

It wasn't enough, not nearly enough, to satisfy her misgivings. But it was all they had. "Perhaps." She said.

XXX

Killing a Goliath this time was not as easy. His reflexes were sluggish and every so often another spasm of pain would hit him, sending him back to the cave to curl up on his bed of shards and ride it out. If McKay were still around, Rodney knew he would get a long-winded run-down on his pet theories. Lingering neurotoxins from the Goliath scratch causing nerve and muscle spasms, leading to deterioration of his motor controls, pain and general discomfort. Debilitation of motor controls would eventually lead to the inability to effectively hunt the Goliath beetles and so an increasing shortage of life sustaining food. The shortage of food would lead to a wasting of tissues and reduced brain function followed by confusion and lethargy, finally resulting in starvation and death.

"I know." Rodney snarled at McKay, who had come out of nowhere to lecture him on the follies of staying on this god-forsaken planet. "You think I want to stay here? You think I don't _want _to leave?" McKay went away and Rodney wept the full bodied ragged sobs of a man who had ceased to look to the skies for help.

XXX

Chapter IV soon.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Sometime...Somehow... Part IV**_

_Hi lovely readers! Again, there is geek-speak in this chapter. Plus there may be some details as to canon that could be off. I have not watched every episode of the wonderful SG:Atlantis (roughly half and not all in the proper order), and no doubt have missed some things in the telling of the tale. So try to be gentle if I have made a canonical error here and there._

"Hey - Rodney."

Rodney had spent a terrible night with The Pain, and then a fruitless hour trying to find one of the Goliaths to dig out of the sand. They were hard to find when they were buried. You had to know how to spot the particular depression in the surface and then to know precisely where to place your feet before you plunged your blade. He missed sometimes, like today. A few dried twigs of the Plant had served as dinner. Not enough to fill the growing hole in his stomach.

Rodney considered going outside and trying again for a Goliath when John Sheppard walked in through the cave door and spoke.

Rodney could not help himself when a smile cracked his chapped lips like he had just swallowed the sunshine. It was so _good_ to see him. "John? What are you doing here?"

"Aren't you going to invite me in?"

Rodney frowned and then nodded quickly, not wanting to be rude. "Yeah, sure, it's just that...I haven't seen you for a while. Where've you _been_?"

Sheppard leaned against the rough wall, crossing his arms. "Well, you know, out saving the Galaxy."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "I mean _other_ than that?"

"Keeping busy. How about you?"

Rodney looked around at his cave, embarrassed at his meager possessions and the cramped space. "Oh, I've been here."He waved a casual hand at the mess of discarded Goliath shells. "You know same ol', same ol'..."

Sheppard nodded. "We really appreciated it, Rodney, I mean sacrificing your life like that, really." Sheppard crossed his arms and said with a hint of let-down. "But your planet, it's kind of a disappointment."

Rodney snapped with irony "Well, I was in the market for something better, but this was real cheap!"

"Yeah, Rodney, but sand? _Bugs?_ I think your program fell a bit short."

Rodney felt his face flush. "I didn't have_ time_." He didn't look at Sheppard, ashamed for what he'd been reduced to. "Besides it's not so bad. It's kind of grown on me. I've gotten used to it."

Sheppard nodded. "We couldn't look for you. IOA orders and all, sorry about that."

Rodney had known all along of course. He nodded vigorously before he spoke, making certain there was no hint of disappointment in his voice or on his face. "Sure. I understand. You had to follow orders." Rodney shook off the apology from the Colonel. The sadness that sprung up in his chest was just an itch. Not even enough to bother scratching it away. "I like it here now anyway. Even if you_ had_ come, I wouldn't have come back with you."

Sheppard chuckled. "Really?"

Rodney raised his head up higher. "Yes - _really_." He went back to massaging his painful feet, which Sheppard's visit had interrupted. "It's a fascinating world, it really is. Did you know there is only one species of animal in this entire valley? The ecto-skeletal glands at the base of its claws contain both a neurotoxin _and_ a mild anesthetic. Do you know how rare that is?"

"No."

"Well it is. And I know how to extract both substances." Rodney threw a dirt-encrusted hand toward the cave opening. "There might be only a dozen planets or so in the whole Pegasus Galaxy with creatures like that and I – just _me_ – _I_ extracted both excretions from dozens of Goliaths and have my own supply now."

Uninterested in Rodney's scientific accomplishments "Nice bed," Sheppard said, giving Rodney a "thumbs-up" sign. Regarding him with a patronizing grin he added "And I suppose you named the planet after yourself?"

"Of course not," Rodney protested "Just the mountain. McKay wanted me to name it after him but I refused."

"Rodney..."

"McKay's a_ jerk_. I can see why nobody ever liked him. He lectures everyone, he's egotistical, he-he's _rude_..."

"_Rodney_..."

"I don't know why I ever put up with him for as long as I did. So you know what? A few months ago I sent him packing!" Rodney smiled at the memory. "Ha!_ I'm_ the boss here, not him." Rodney massaged his feet until they were numb. It was the only way to get through the night. "Oh he comes back once in a while to mock me or to tell me about some stupid new theory of his but I'm all about ignoring him now." Even though his feet hurt, he felt like singing because Sheppard was here now.

Rodney massaged his blackened feet like a man possessed, his fingers stroking up and down the underside as fast as he could move them. His hands were frantic, spurred on by the dipping sun and the visitor leaning in the doorway. There was still so much to talk about!

He turned around to share something with his friend.

But Sheppard was gone.

Rodney swallowed hard, his heart pounding like a native drum in his thin chest. "Sheppard..?" He bit his lip and waited to hear any sign that Sheppard had merely slipped out the door for a breath of fresh air or to take a stroll. "John? Hey John – a-are you out there?" The valley below was silent.

Rodney sniffed, shaking off his former colleague's quick-fire visit. He whipped his head back around, stubbornly ignoring the empty cave. People came and went all the time here. No big deal. Even that idiot McKay still popped in now and then.

Rodney brightened with the thought. If McKay decided to drop by then Rodney could tell him that Sheppard had come to see him. To see_ him_, not McKay.

Delighted, Rodney went back to attending to his painful feet.

XXX

Sheppard was bounced out of bed with a call on his radio and a city-wide announcement for him to report to the labs. Sheppard scrambled into his uniform, just the basics – he was in a hurry – although he did take up his gun. Loading the weapon from a cache of rounds he kept in a drawer beside his bed, he tucked it into the holster and strapped it on.

Shaking the cobwebs from his head on the way – a weird dream where he was talking to McKay about...he couldn't remember - when he arrived Zelenka was there, as was Doctor Weir and his two top team members Teyla and Ronan.

Ronan clarified things without the preamble others usually stuck in at the beginning of every dire announcement. "There's more."

Sheppard had grown to prefer Ronan's clipped way, and understood exactly what meant. "Iratus bugs."

Zelenka nodded. "Two more of my lab assistants were attacked this morning. They're in the infirmary."

Weir looked at Sheppard and, when she spoke, he gauged her tone in the ballpark of accusing.

"You _said_ there were no more." She reminded him. "You told me you were _sure_."

Sheppard grit his teeth. "I _said_ there was no guaran_tee_." Sheppard glanced at Zelenka and then down the dim corridor. "Radek - you, Rodney and Becket studied these damn things, so here's the question: how many do you suppose there might be that we_ can't_ see, considering the three we've already _seen_?"

Zelenka did a quick mental calculation. "Um, well, based on our studies of the Iratus and of similar Earth-borne insect populations according to species, such as the cockroach, termites, and several oth-"

Sheppard snapped "_Don't_ give me the lecture hall version! _How many_?"

"Oh, perhaps two-"

"Two?" That wasn't so bad. Sheppard relaxed a bit. "A couple of well placed rounds ought to do it."

Zelenka looked at Weir. "No, no, Colonel, two-_thousand_ – and that's breeding adults."

Weir asked "Let's assume they are breeding. What about the nests - how many eggs?"

Zelenka looked uncomfortable. "If indeed a new generation has been laid, then we can expect anywhere from one to two-hundred-thousand eggs, with a total incubation period of perhaps eight or nine days for the first batch."

Teyla asked "How many more batches would there be?"

Zelenka wished he could say zero. "Three at least, maybe four cycles of laying and hatching in the first few weeks. If all survive – and there are no natural predators on Atlantis therefore almost all of them_ would_ – we can figure a number upwards of eight-hundred thousand to a million maturing Iratus by the end of next month."

Sheppard stared at him and Zelenka rushed to explain. "You didn't let me finish before. The Iratus bug is a prolific breeder, even more so than most crawling insects, so that number is an estimate. And no one's ever made a definitive study of the Iratus except the Wraith so that number's probably a_ conservative _estimate."

"_Probably_ a conservative estimate." Sheppard echoed.

Weir shivered at the thought of a million Iratus crawling the walls and corridors of Atlantis.

"Great, Radek." Sheppard remarked. "That's just great."

The tension between Sheppard and Zelenka was as thick as butter. Weir decided it was the perfect moment to step up and curtail any throwing of accusations until a more appropriate time. "Well, we all have our work cut out for us, don't we?" then to Zelenka "I guess you and Becket have some brainstorming to do – rapidly, on how to eradicate the bugs and their nests, if there are any." And to Sheppard "Get your people, all of them, ready and hunt these things down as fast as you can. Meanwhile I'll call for a general evacuation except for a skeleton crew. Find out where things are hiding John."

Sheppard knew it would be a losing battle. "Two thousand of them." He reminded her. "_And_ the eggs." A conservative estimate, most of them well hidden and all of which would be fiercely protected by the parents. _So well hidden in fact that our first sweep had missed every single one of them._

"I know." She said. "I know, but we have to start somewhere."

XXX

The glandular excretions of the Goliath beetle brought some, but not total, relief of his pain. His hands and feet hurt most of the time. He could not see the wound on his back but felt it healing up well despite his having no choice but to neglect it. He had no clean bandages anyway and no salve or any other treatment for it, but to leave it alone and hope infection did not set in. Fortunately on such an arid world, bacteria had a hard time proliferating and none had.

Nature took its course. With every movement however, Rodney could feel the pull of the thick scab on the untouched skin around it, and he had to be careful. He would have a hell of a scar but that couldn't be helped. No one was around to see it anyway.

Incredibly, a shower of rain fell that evening, an event that had only occurred twice before during his three year sojourn on Gobi Prime and Rodney laid out a dozen upturned Goliath shells to collect it. It was wonderful to have extra water to rinse out his one shirt, thread-bare but still together, the worst of the rips and tears sewn back together with some handy strips of dried root using a needle fashioned from the claw of a new-born Goliath. Patchwork in some places had been created using his underclothing which he had sacrificed to the job during the second year of his arrival.

Stripped down to his birthday suit, it felt glorious to wash away the worst of the dirt from his body. Thin, shaking fingers rubbed up and down his sides, playing across his ribs like a stick on a picket fence, and reaching as far up the non-scabbed parts of his back as his hands would reach.

Next he worked on his legs and feet, the water in the boot by now black with filth. With the last few wrings of his rag he wiped the dirt off his shoes. The rest of the water was too dirty for anything except to pour out onto the ground at the entrance to the cave. What did not immediately soak into the sand the heat swiftly took away.

"You are so thin."

Rodney snapped his head around to see Teyla sitting cross-legged beside his bed of shards. He suddenly sensed his nakedness and with some embarrassment pulled his pants and shirt on. "Teyla? Did John send you?"

Teyla nodded her head, smiling ever so kindly. "Of course."

Rodney always liked Teyla; she was always nice to him. She was nice to everyone - McKay too, even when he didn't deserve it which was most of the time. "Why are you here?"

"Can a friend not visit a friend?" She patted his bed of shards with her hand, inviting him to sit beside her.

He did but in a spot farther away than what she had indicated.

"Do I frighten you Rodney?"

He lifted his chin but didn't look at her beautiful face directly. "Frighten? No, of course not."

Teyla threw him a knowing smile. "But I make you nervous, do I not?"

Rodney looked away to the other side of the cave. Teyla had never made him nervous - not exactly _nervous_, just less comfortable in his own skin. But it wasn't her fault, he always felt that way around very beautiful people. Rodney knew he wasn't the most handsome man around, but it never bothered him...much. He had plenty of other talents besides what any mirror gave him. And Sam Carter had liked him – right? Still, sometimes it bothered him that relationships, and little love encounters now and then, came so easily to them but were so hard for him.

The beautiful people in his life had accepted him for the most part but occasionally it felt to him as though they were being kind out of pity and not due to feelings of genuine friendship. On John's advice Rodney had tried to shed that negative image of them – and of himself, but it was not easy.

Teyla, Ronan, Sheppard, Weir...all examples of what nature could do when she really tried hard.

"It's not your fault." Rodney finally said to Teyla.

A hand touched his chin and turned his head. "_What's_ not my fault?"

It was Sheppard, sitting close by, his perfect man's hand moving up to caress, just once, Rodney's hollow cheek. Rodney looked around (but only with his eyes, he was so grateful for the touch of another he didn't want to lose it yet by moving his head too far), but Teyla was gone. It was only John and him. It was right.

"You stopped looking at the sky, Rodney McKay." Sheppard said.

Rodney said sadly "Because it was hopeless. There was no use. And McKay isn't here."

Sheppard stroked his cheek again. "But that's your _home, _McKay. It's where you belong."

Rodney didn't want to talk anymore. It was so nice just hearing Sheppard's voice and feeling the touch of his hand that he didn't want to think of anything else. "If you say so."

Sheppard said "Rodney McKay, you're getting sick. You need to come home _now_."

Rodney nodded gently, the warmth of Sheppard's hand on his face so gentle, so kind, so _human,_ and so comforting that he started to softly cry. "I know but I can't. I-I don't know _how_."

Sheppard moved his hand away from Rodney's rough beard and ran fingers through his friend's greasy, matted hair. "Don't worry, McKay. You _will_."

Rodney nodded, wanting to make John happy but everything hurt; his hands, his feet, his heart, everything but John's hand softly stroking his hair.

"You need to rest Rodney McKay. You have a long trip home." John advised.

"I don't – I ca-..John...I mean why...why can't you just stay_ here_?" Rodney asked closing his eyes and trying to imagine the day he would be home. He knew he was getting sicker, and weaker. He knew he should go home. Sheppard _wanted_ him to go home and he wanted to please his friend. John Sheppard was his best friend.

When he opened his eyes, once more Sheppard was gone and Rodney almost cried out against the unfairness of it. Only a few seconds with Sheppard in months and it was already over. Rodney sat, stunned by the injustices of Gobi Prime and the things around him, the Goliaths and the heat and the cold, the daylight and the darkness – _none_ of it cared whether he returned home or not.

"Go to sleep, McKay."

Rodney heard Zelenka's soft accent and did not need to look up and see that it was Radek sitting there now. But he looked up anyway. "What are you talking about Radek? I sleep every night. And McKay isn't here."

"You are both here, Rodney McKay. Dig, McKay, and then sleep." Zelenka said matter-of-factly.

McKay suddenly got angry at his old friend "Why in hell should I -?" He began and then stopped. McKay looked around. "Man I hate this ugly cave. I never wanted to come back here." Then over to where Rodney was sitting. "I mean look at_ him_. I think he's losing it, Radek."

"He's ill, McKay, and getting weaker every day, so don't be too hard on him."

McKay drew his mind back to Radek's words. "Why do you want me to dig?"

"Ask yourself where the Goliaths get their water." Zelenka answered. "Ask yourself why you have never found a dead one."

McKay thought for a few seconds. "Uh...they get their water from below the surface I guess." A light dawned and stretched back into McKay's darkened mind, setting off alarm bells and fireworks of thought. "Yes, yes, it has to be. Only..." He looked at Radek "No dead ones, no dead ones...I'm not sure why that's important, Radek."

Zelenka grinned a bit. "That's up to you to figure out. I know you're up to it. I mean if _I_ thought of it, then..."

As they conversed, in the corner Rodney began rocking back and forth. Such a motion eased many pains.

McKay scoffed. "He always was a softy. Well, I'd better try and get some sleep. Big day tomorrow." He glanced at Rodney then asked Zelenka "Do you think he...m-might be dying?" For some reason his throat felt tight.

"Dig!" Zelenka barked "Because, Rodney McKay, it is not _you_ who is going to die."

XXX

Ronan stood aside as the door to the last room of the last tower on their search grid opened wide. A few inches of water rushed out the opened doors, spreading and slowing down. Finally it stopped, leaving a wide puddle in the corridor to a depth of a few millimeters.

"This is the only room left. The rest are still filled with water, the bugs can't nest in them." Sheppard said, waving one hand to his team to enter with him.

They entered in pairs, aiming their weapons high and low. The walls were encrusted with barnacles and seaweed clung to the scattering of water logged furniture. A few stuffed chairs lay on their sides or up-side-down, an overturned table and there, but no bugs.

Sheppard got on his com-link. "Weir, this is Sheppard. No sign of the bugs in Residential Tower twenty-two either. That's it." He fisted his hand around the mic long enough to say to his team "That's the whole damn city and not a single Iratus."

Weir's voice was strangely clear in the mostly empty room. _"That's impossible, Colonel."_

Sheppard hit the com-link in his ear with a frustrated finger. "I know. But unless you have any suggestions where to look next, we need another confab."

"_Have all team leaders report back to my office. Weir out."_

XXX

McKay waited until just first light. The spot he chose was not too far from the foot of Mount McKay, but hundreds of feet from where he knew the sleeping holes of the Goliaths generally were. Far enough away, he hoped, from anywhere he had searched before in hopes that he could find...whatever he was supposed to be looking for. It was hard work, although using the open end of the metallic Wraith boot as a shovel made the job easier.

At twelve inches down the boot struck something hard and McKay pried one edge of it up, horrified to discover it was the shell of a Goliath beetle. McKay dropped it and turned to flee, but the beetle did not come after him. It did not leave its hole and, in fact, did not move at all.

McKay pried it further out of the sand and very carefully turned it over. The creature was dry and shrivelled. It was dead. They died underground it seemed. That's why in three years of hunting them he had never happened upon a dead one. Zelenka seemed to think this was important.

McKay dug deeper and after another five inches or so the boot struck something else, softer this time. He pulled at it as hard as he could but it did not budge. Taking out his knife he sliced into it, hacking until he had cut out a small piece to examine up close.

Holding it up first to his nose, then to bloodshot eyes, his tired mind brought forth a conclusion. It was some sort of thick fungus, something like peat moss but something else altogether too, and very dense, as thick as six inches. McKay laid it beside the dead Goliath beetle and kept digging. One Goliath after another he pulled from the sand, all dead. Beneath them, he encountered the layer of the moss-like growth, but in this spot –

He found something new beneath it, round black spheres the size of billiard balls and covered in a layer of thick goo – eggs! _Had_ to be Goliath beetle eggs. Hundreds of thousands of them. Millions of them if the laying area was as large as the sleeping ground of the adults.

McKay was breathing hard from the work. His body was weak and not used to this level of labour, especially not with Big Red rising on a new day. He had to stop for a few minutes and crouched down on the sand beside them both, pondering his discoveries.

He never would before have taken such a risk out in the open but this, Zelenka had said, was important. A small wind appeared out of nowhere to tease his scraggly hair. It made him look up.

That is when the shadow of the thing first appeared across the swollen face of Big Red. A black shadow the size and shape of a Russian scythe was blocking out a small sliver of Gobi's sun. The sight was so wholly unexpected and so beyond the norm of what his mind had grown used to that, for a moment, his brain failed to gather the menace inherent in the vision.

But his brain turned over what he had learned in the last few minutes. The Goliaths were all dead. They had laid their eggs beneath the sand, and beneath the thick layer of moss-like material. If the black shadow kept moving across the sun, that meant Big Red was about to be winked out for who knew how long. Perhaps a day. Perhaps longer.

That depended, McKay realised, on its orbital trajectory and how many other solar bodies circled Big Red, and how close they came to each other. Another planet might be soon to pass by as well which could alter how long this one remained between Big Red and Gobi Prime. Solar systems were very complicated things; a hundred variables could cause enormous changes in rotation, orbit, angle, trajectory and a dozen other physical sub-systems.

McKay was getting a headache from the sun. As he watched the sliver grew and grew. It would be many hours before Big Red was blocked out, but already he could feel a noticeable drop in temperature.

And all the Goliaths were dead. Their eggs were laid in preparation...

In preparation for _this._

Other things that had been mere facts, naked of meaning, suddenly fell into place like a chorus line. There was only one hardy species, as far as he knew, on the entire planet. Water existed below ground. Below ground. The single surviving genus of flora best grew on rocks. Water condensed on rock in the shade or in the early morning. Rock was full of minerals and had old life-food trapped in it in the form of carbon.

These things were the sole life on Gobi Prime because Gobi Prime's life-span was limited. Everything on Gobi Prime died out every...how many years McKay could only guess. But the lack of any dead Goliath beetles on the surface of the desert told him it was a very long time in between planet-wide death and planet-wide new life. These few species had learned the secret of survival. Dig your roots hundreds of feet into the rock where the killing cold cannot find them and you will be reborn once more. Coat the next generation of eggs in natural anti-freeze, and lay them beneath the protective layer of sand and moss-like insulation. Protect them in this way and the children will emerge into the sun again some far away day.

McKay understood now. He ran to the cave to get Rodney.

XXX

"What the hell?"

In the transparent isolation bin, where before had been a dead Iratus bug sinking into its own body's decomposing puddle of goo, the first one removed from his first patient, there was now a living one, crawling around inside. "Robert. When di' this happen?"

Robert, his head nurse, approached. "I just arrived myself, Doctor Beckett. I have no idea."

"Jenna?"

His second nurse, the one who had been on duty all night to watch over his patient, hurried over and gasped at the sight.

Beckett gestured to the Iratus bug. "When di' this thing suddenly reform an' come back ta' life?"

Jenna's green eyes widened. "Oh my God, I-I have no idea, Doctor, I've been with the patient all night."

Beckett swallowed. "I want ye' ta' move the patient ta' an isolation chamber right now, and 'ave one of the Colonel's men guard the door. No one but me is ta' be allowed in or ou'."

"Right away Doctor."

Suddenly "Hold up!" Becket said sharply. All three watched in horrified fashion as the two folds of the Iratus bug's upper abdominal plates lifted and spread apart and four tear-drop shaped iridescent wings unfolded. The Iratus began to fly around inside the Isolation container, tapping the walls of its prison, looking for a way out.

Beckett said to his nurses. "We' betta' hurry."

X

In her office Weir tried to shake loose an idea from the gathered group. "Okay, we know that with the exception of the one that used to be in Doctor Beckett's lab, there have never been Iratus bugs in Atlantis or on this planet – that is until this week." She underlined the last few words. "And the only thing that changed between then and now is..?"

Zelenka, his arms crossed which for him was a relaxed posture finished for her "We went to the derelict Hive ships."

Weir nodded. "Yes, so it stands to reason that's how the bugs got into Atlantis."

Sheppard begged to differ. "But we swept every corner of those ships and found not a single Iratus bug. And we didn't bring them back aboard the Jumpers, so..."

Zelenka, deep in thought and a frown between his be-spectacled eyes, asked "Colonel, on your Hive ship where did your teams start their sweeps?"

"At the outer edges working toward the central Dart bay, where we then swept the Jumpers and left." Sheppard explained. "When you mop a room, you don't start at the thresh-hold, you start in the corners." It made sense.

Zelenka thought for a moment. "All the other teams did the same." He said thoughtfully. After a few seconds his brow cleared. "We swept the Dart bays _last_. So how do we know the Iratus bugs were not in the Dart bays to begin with?"

"In hindsight we don't but even if they were, we swept the Dart bays _and_ the Jumpers before returning to Atlantis." Sheppard reasoned. "And I'm telling you, there were no Iratus bugs anywhere in or on the Jumpers."

Without knocking Doctor Beckett entered Weir's office, ignoring everyone but her. He marched up to her desk. "Elizabeth, we 'ave a problem."

Elizabeth sighed. "Only one?" And then, when she saw how serious his expression was she immediately abandon levity. "What is it?"

Beckett licked his lips. "I 'aven't tested it yet to be sure, but I think these Iratus bugs 'ave been genetically altered, enhanced ta' be specific – with nanites."

"Oh my god." Weir breathed softly. "Are you sure?"

"As I said, I've not tested it yet, but this morning in the lab, tha' first Iratus bug we removed from Janice, the bug which by the way had been rapidly decomposing the night before, is back ta' life this morning."

Weir sat down. It sounded like nanites were involved, micro-machines designed to infiltrate and either repair, alter or destroy organic life, depending on how they were programmed. Nanites - _Replicator technology_. Weir shivered. Inside her body some of the feared machines still resided. Inert but present.

Weir looked over to Zelenka, whose face had changed from surprise at the news to a growing seed of an idea that he had not yet shared with the group.

Zelenka saw Elizabeth looking at him expectantly. His idea came to fruition. "I think I know how the Iratus got aboard Atlantis." He addressed Sheppard. "Colonel, we need to get to the Jumper Bay right now."

Sheppard, his team, and Doctor Weir stepped through the doors of the Jumper Bay. Nine Jumpers sat each in its own alcove one on top of another in the high and wide cylindrical chamber.

On the way Zelenka had reprogrammed his hand-held scanner to detect nanite activity. The moment they entered, the scanner beeped at them incessantly.

Sheppard muttered "Great, just great." He whispered to Zelenka "Radek how in the hell did we miss them?"

Zelenka shook his head. Even with seven pairs of searching eyes there was still no visible sign of the Iratus bugs anywhere in the Jumper bay. "I-I'm not sure, unless..."

Beckett whispered. "Look, the scanner says they're here an' that's good enough for me. Plus there's worse news than tha'."

Sheppard turned his head part way around to whisper fiercely "How could there be anything worse than an infestation of nanite enhanced Iratus bugs on Atlantis?" As far as he was concerned, only two things could possibly be worse and those would be either Wraith or the Replicators themselves.

Zelenka suddenly dropped the scanner from fumbling fingers. In the quiet room with the humans creeping around like mice, it landed with a teeth-shattering bang, echoing through-out the chamber.

Becket held up a finger. "Hey – do ya' hear it?"

A soft hum had begun and was growing louder. Suddenly the air burst with life as hundreds of Iratus bugs crawled out from their hiding places and swarmed like locusts. The air above turned black with them as a column of bugs rose high in the chamber, twisting like a snake. It was a tornado of Iratus.

Sheppard instinctively ducked. Then his military training took over and he waved a hand in the air, a sign of retreat as he and his team backed out the door, closing it behind them. Weir got on her comm.-link and barked into it. "Josh - close the Jumper Bay doors between the Bay and the Gate. Do it _now!"_

Josh answered back_ "It's closed Doctor Weir. What's wrong?"_

Weir looked at Beckett who said simply. "This is what I've been trying to tell ye', _these_ Iratus can fly."

XXX

Chapter V soon.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Sometime...Somehow... Part V_**

_More geek-speak. Please don't thrash me if some of it isn't as scientific as it might be. *grin* _

**XXX**

"It laid a few eggs." Doctor Beckett explained to the group in Elizabeth Weir's conference room. "And I was able ta' dissect - by _remote_ – and analyze them, and I am sorry ta' report that tha' nanites are present in the eggs too. Nineteen percent of tha' Iratus bugs body is enhanced by nanite activity in one way or another." Beckett rubbed his eyes. "And twenty-nine percent in tha' eggs."

Weir frowned. "A greater percentage in the eggs?"

Beckett nodded.

"What does that mean?" Teyla asked.

Zelenka filled them in. "It means the nanites are artificially causing the Iratus bugs to evolve starting at the mitochondrial level – in the DNA – that's why they can now fly, among other abilities we may not have even observed yet."

"Well, can we not use an EMP generator to disrupt the nanites?" Teyla suggested. "With the nanites gone, would that not kill the Iratus as well?"

Beckett shook his head. "The nanites aren't _replacing_ any organs in the Iratus, they're just _enhancing_ them. It's analogous ta' a factory run by nuclear power as opposed ta' a ZPM. Even with tha' nanite presence neutralized the enhanced version of tha' Iratus would still be alive."

"And the EMP would only temporarily disrupt the nanites. It would be only moments, perhaps seconds, before they could regroup." Zelenka explained. "Unfortunately for us, existing and working from _within_ a living host gives the nanties all the bio-electrical energy they need to repair themselves and the host, and the more often we used the EMP, the faster they would learn to repair _and_ develop new ways to protect _both_."

Weir added "We've seen that sort of behavior before. We know they learn at an exponential rate."

Sheppard made the leap. "So because this is the_ first_ generation of eggs, basically these things are just going to keep on growing stronger and harder to kill as time goes by?"

Zelenka nodded. "As long as they keep living and nesting, yes."

Weir said. "It also means something else." She realised. "It means it wasn't the Wraith who abandoned those Hives ships."

Ronan, who rarely spoke at the conference meetings, said "The Replicators _put_ them there."

"_After_ infecting them with nanite-enhanced Iratus bugs." Sheppard slammed his hand down. "Damnit! They knew we'd get curious enough and eventually we'd have to check the ships out." He stood and paced. It was a new habit.

Ronan watched his leader with veiled concern. "All they had to do is wait around for us to take the bait."

Zelenka said "I hate to say it but it was a brilliant move. We brought the bugs to Atlantis ourselves. We caused our own destruction."

"We're not dead yet." Weir reminded Zelenka, rubbing her forehead. "It was not only brilliant but strategic." Her voice was low, as though she were speaking to herself and not a room full of people. Then in her normal volume "If we can't kill them or draw them away from Atlantis, the Replicators know that eventually we'll have to abandon the city."

Sheppard finished the thought _And then they can just move in_.

Ronan looked around, his tall body leaning over the table, his hands comfortably clasped together. Even in dire situations, Ronan appeared able to relax. "The bugs won't even bother the Replicators because they're family."

Teyla asked "I am curious. Why were there no Iratus nests on the Hive ships?"

Zelenka shrugged. "Probably programming set in place by The Replicators. They could have written in a set of instructions for to the Iratus to wait until we showed up before beginning the internal fertilization process or it could have been a simple command for them to breed only upon arrival on Atlantis or even triggered by our coming to the Hive ships, there are countless possibilities."

Teyla set her jaw. "Well, we must find a way to eradicate them before too many generations hatch."

Sheppard stopped his pacing and turned to the group. "This is my fault. I kept insisting we scout out the Hives." If only he had just left it alone.

Weir said "The IOA would have eventually ordered us to go, John, so stop trying to blame yourself." She looked hopefully at Beckett. "Doctor Beckett, what have you and Zelenka come up with so far for fighting these things?"

Beckett cleared his throat a little. "Doctor Zelenka and I figure the only way to kill them all, and I'm talking about the adult Iratus now, is to find a method to deliver an EMP and a lethal insecticide at precisely the same moment; that's the only way to not only disrupt the nanites but kill the hosts so the nanites have no fuel to repair themselves."

"Sounds good." Weir said.

"There's only one problem." Zelenka cautioned. "We're not positive the poison would have any effect on the egg nests. They're protected by a very thick layer of bio-synthetic protein gel, and by synthetic I mean nanite-like in properties, meaning they are all but impervious to penetration by chemicals, heat, cold, pretty well every naturally occurring onslaught, and a few un-natural ones. About the only thing that gets through as far as we can see are bullets and in this case..."

"The bullets will only kill them temporarily while the nanites learn to repair themselves faster and faster." Sheppard finished. "And besides that we don't have enough rounds on Atlantis anyway to kill every single egg assuming there are the hundred thousand or so Zelenka says there is."

"I said _could _be." Zelenka corrected him.

Sheppard threw him a nod. "Even so, it would deplete our on-site resources to fight the Wraith, should they also soon decide to darken our doorstep."

Becket nodded. "What we need is something lethal to both, something that will kill every single Iratus and Iratus egg at the same time without leaving so much as even one behind."

Teyla said "And something that will leave Atlantis and her systems unharmed."

Zelenka reminded them "And, uh, of course first we have to _find_ the eggs."

Ronan suggested "What about drowning them? We submerge the city."

Zelenka said. "Yes, we thought of that. It'll drown the _adult _Iratus but leave the nanites in their bodies unaffected; they'll simply rebuild and bring the Iratus back to life just like the one in the lab. Plus there's no guarantee the salt water will harm the egg sacs."

Weir bit her lip. "Doctor Beckett, how is Janice Marshe and the others? What about them, will they survive?"

Beckett sighed heavily. "Unfortunately all three were bitten. The nanites have already begun making changes in their bodies, and they're becoming less cooperative and unpredictable. I was forced to move them all into protective isolation." Beckett pursed his lips. "And the nanites have taken control of a greater number of physiological systems in their bodies than in the Iratus bugs or the eggs. Janice is the furthest along with thirty-eight percent nanite infestation in her major organs – heart, lungs, liver and most importantly – her brain."

Weir asked "I take it there is nothing you can do for them?"

Beckett shook his head no. Sheppard could see the angry set of the man's shoulders. The doctor's hands were as tied as everyone else's, his own included. Sheppard never missed Rodney as urgently as he did at that moment. _If only Rodney were here._

Rodney would think of something.

XXX

"What are you doing?" Rodney grabbed at McKay's arm and tried to push him away from his secret hole in which the Wraith firearm was buried.

McKay pushed Rodney out of the way and swiftly dug it up, shaking the sand off of it with an angry glare at his counter-part. "You should have wrapped it in something. You want sand getting into the control chips or the power cells?"

Rodney glared back. "That's mine. Give it back!"

McKay ignored him and held out his palm. "Give me the transponder."

Rodney raised his chin defiantly. "No."

"Give it to me, Rodney; we don't have time for this. This whole damn planet is about to be turned into a giant snow-cone!"

McKay leaped for Rodney and grappled with him, both falling to the dirt floor of the cave. McKay managed to get one hand around Rodney's skinny neck while he wriggled the fingers of his other deep into the front pocket of Rodney's pants, pulling out the transponder with a triumphant snort.

Rodney looked like he was about to cry when McKay got to his feet and started removing the tiny cover from the device. "What are you going to do with it?" He asked, sniffing.

McKay threw a hand in the general direction of the mouth of the cave and the steadily darkening sky. "Save our lives – what do you think?" Already it was getting so cold he could feel it penetrating his skin. Soon it would be too cold to work. And was it his imagination or was Big Red _shrinking?_

No, his mind corrected his eyes' erroneous conclusion, Big Red was not shrinking; Gobi Prime was being pulled farther away from its life-giving star.

"Come on." McKay said to Rodney. "This planet is dying and us along with it if we don't go right now." McKay would have to complete the modification at the site. Only then would he allow himself a moment to contemplate what he must do. Even if reason said it was almost too unlikely to possibly succeed, even if it seemed a little hopeless; maybe even.._.insane_.

McKay gathered up the rest of what he thought they might need – and after three years it was a collection of treasures which he realised was laughable – and tucked them into one of the silver coloured Wraith stockings; the vials of Goliath glandular poison and anesthetics, and a hand written message he remembered creating on a piece of cloth torn from his uniform using a reed and the dark juices of the High Ground Plant. It was a Will addressed to his sister and a goodbye note addressed to The Team. The writing was faded now but he tucked it inside the sock anyway.

Rodney, in a hunger induced daze, followed McKay to the nest area.

By the eggs, where McKay had uncovered and cut a hole through the thick fungus growth approximately one meter wide, McKay completed the modifications to the transponder, explaining to Rodney "I can use the conductive threads from the socks to trickle the energy from the Wraith weapon into the transponder and that will give it enough power to work almost indefinitely."

McKay bent down and scooped a small amount of the slimy covering of egg goop. In his hand it felt air-cold and he had to fling it away with a start. It left his hand perfectly numb, so numb that for a few seconds he could not feel anything up to his elbow. Once feeling had returned he took out the Goliath-excreted fluid, a natural anesthetic, and looked at it. What he had not used on his painful feet he'd had stored in the six inch-long section of dried Plant root for many months. Removing the strip of cloth that had served as a tie he sniffed. It seemed as potent as before. McKay turned and watched the sun being eaten up by darkness. He was ready.

Suddenly Rodney was standing at his side, staring up at the disappearing sun. "What if we're both just crazy?" He asked casually and McKay looked at him sharply. "What if they're all dead and this action is just our ill minds telling us to give up? What if we didn't save them after all?"

McKay stared at Rodney, then at the sky and then at the ground. The Goliaths were all dead, sacrificing themselves for their cache of millions of eggs and their protective goo. There was no food left to be hunted. The air was getting so cold that McKay could already feel the beginnings of hypothermia setting in. He had stopped shivering minutes before – a sign.

But maybe Rodney was right. Atlantis might not even be there anymore. Maybe they were dead and he had not saved anything. A poem he had once read suddenly showed itself in his memory. _Beat your fists upon Death, and rage in His ear your song. No spirit so enduring as mortal man's, should swift to the mound pass along. _It would be easier to just stand where he was and let the cold take him at its will. But wasn't the better choice to take a chance on _maybe more_ than on _certain end_? In urgency Zelenka's words condensed and whispered to him while the wind picked up in the charcoal sky _"Isn't it smarter to gamble on the hope for something more rather than campaign the resolution that it's only material and therefore all for nothing?"_

Perhaps he should at least give it a shot? It was a long shot to be sure – millions of light years long probably, but what the hell. McKay said "I'm going into the hole, Rodney and if I was you and you were me, I'd _join_ me if...I were you." McKay smiled at his own joke and at his mirrored sickly self. "Let's go find them, even if they're dead." _Maybe we'll all end up dead together. _

Almost any state would be an improvement.

McKay tucked the transponder and the Wraith weapon under his left arm-pit, drank back the anesthetic in a single guzzle, crossed his arms over his chest and jumped. He was swallowed up by the thick goo in an instant.

Rodney, seeing the sky turn from pink, to red, to brown as the sun narrowed to a splinter in the heavens, was full of fear. But he even more scared not to follow him. He jumped.

Big Red disappeared from the sky overhead and soon afterward all surface life slowly began to fade from Gobi Prime.

XXX

Weir hovered over Josh's shoulder as his fingers flew over the Atlantis's controls. "What's causing these power fluctuations?" She asked. The lights were playing a game of on-flicker-off-flicker-on over and over.

Josh shook his head, perplexed. "The Iratus bugs must have gotten to a sensitive area but I can't guess which one, since every system is being affected."

Zelenka bent over the consol. "It's not surprising. They're hardy little demons."

Weir crossed her arms. Each of them knew they were losing the battle against the Iratus infestation. "Doctor Zelenka, if we can't get back full control of Atlantis..."

"I know." He said. "We'll have no choice but to sink the city."

Sheppard hated the standing around while the Iratus were multiplying, and while his search for Rodney remained suspended indefinitely. "The only place we haven't checked are the power conduits and they could not possibly survive in there." Sheppard said but the last few words turned into a question.

"But maybe with the nanites they could." Zelenka answered him. He noticed something. "Damn! Another power drop. The ZPM is functioning perfectly, the power conduits show full flow, but there's no power getting to the rest of Atlantis and barely any getting to the controls here. We're running out of time."

Weir asked them all. "Any last ditch ideas? Anyone? I don't care if you think it's insane."

Zelenka suggested. "I think perhaps the Colonel is right and the Iratus bugs are in the power conduits. What else could be causing irregular interference with the flow?"

"How can we find out?" Weir asked.

Zelenka removed his glasses and rubbed his face to bring some life back into it. No one had slept since the invasion had begun. "We take radiation suits and cut into the conduits - _visual_ inspection by remote scope. That's the only way to directly inspect them."

Weir nodded. "John?"

Sheppard nodded. "Let's go."

XXX

"Are you sure this is the only way?" Sheppard asked. He sounded muffled and far away behind the protective mask of his hazard suit.

Zelenka nodded. "The systems are functioning perfectly. The power is just not getting to where it should, and if we lose anymore, the city will start to sink. You ready?"

Sheppard nodded. He was sweating bullets in the damn thing but the suits were necessary to protect them from not only from the radiation from the ZPM power conduits but the flying Iratus bugs that now infested almost every other tower in Atlantis. The nanites had made greater headway than even Zelenka had anticipated and were now doubling in number once every five days.

The battle was probably already lost, Sheppard realised, although he had not voiced it. He recognised that he and Elizabeth were both stubborn to the last, and not willing to give up the fight just yet. "What about the insulating pipes around the power conduits?" Sheppard suggested. "If they could get in there, would the bugs be safe?"

Inside his mask, Zelenka shook the sweat from his face. "If they could get in there, yes, but it's impossible. There's no way in. the pipes are completely sealed."

Sheppard wasn't convinced. "If anything could find a way to get inside the insulated covering of a ZPM power conduit, it would be the nanites – don't you think?"

"I guess so."

"Then let's shut down the power conduits altogether, open up the damn pipes and see for ourselves." Sheppard wanted to leave no stone unturned although if he was right, he knew that meant it was game over for the Atlantis expedition. If the Iratus bugs were inside those, then they had all the energy they would ever need to survive and grow stronger. Atlantis would be lost for good.

Zelenka waved away the idea as though_ it_ were an Iratus bug. "If we shut down the power conduits, the city will begin to submerge uncontrollably. If for some reason we are unable to re-establish power, the city would hit the bottom at fifty kilometers per hour. It would cause significant damage to the base levels of Atlantis not to mention damage the Star-drive engine outputs."

"Then we'll have to do it while the city is still powered. We can shut down the conduit once we're in place. We'll only need a few seconds."

"That's very dangerous colonel."

Sheppard waved an arm around at the swarming bugs. "What choice do we have? This city is on the verge of being lost to us _now_. The best we can do is access how much radiation these damn bugs can endure. If they can survive ZPM radiation, then what the hell do we kill them with?"

"I'll contact Stargate Command."

"Radek we don't have time for a bunch of bureaucrats to set up a conference. We need to do this ourselves right now before it's too late." Sheppard insisted.

Zelenka nodded. "We can use a cutting torch to gain entry into the outer pipes but after that, we need remote cutter to gain access to the ZPM conduit. If we get to within ten feet of the power flow, in seconds we'll both be cooked from the inside-out."

It was several hours before the twelve inches of Ancient alloy in the insulting pipe was cut through and another thirty minutes before Zelenka had the remote cutter in place. On Sheppard's nod Zelenka began cutting. "I'm almost through Colonel, shut Atlantis's power now."

When Sheppard did so, Zelenka shone a powerful beam of light down the conduit. Its three meter wide interior wall was lined with Iratus eggs.

Zelenka nodded his head to Sheppard. "Iratus eggs. Millions of them, colonel." Zelenka spent the next fifteen minutes closing the wound in the conduit with a carefully applied metal patch, which he welded in place using a molecular torch. "Re-establish power." He said

Sheppard did so and was relieved to see Atlantis's interior lights resume their flickering. Elizabeth had cut the city's power down to minimum in order to minimize the energy on which the nanites were feeding.

Zelenka swiftly completed the repairs to the insulating pipe. Exacting effort was now not needed as the city would be submerged to the bottom of the sea and the power to the ZPM switched off to better deprive the invading army its primary source of energy. He asked Sheppard "Now what?"

Sheppard took one last look at the walls and ceilings of Atlantis's lower level. It could be the last time he ever saw them. "Now we turn the brainstorming over to Earth's scientists. Hopefully they can figure out some way to kill these things." Sheppard let it go. Atlantis, hope...it was time to let it all go. "We've run out of options."

XXX

The last member of Sheppard's team, himself and Weir took a last look at Atlantis and stepped through the Ancient Ring

And onto a ramp leading down a few steps to a steel and concrete arena. General Landry, a man who held command of a full head of thick hair and a thickening middle. With a firm but welcoming expression, he stepped up to greet them. "Doctor Weir, Colonel Sheppard, and Doctor Zelenka I believe." He held out his hand to shake each of theirs. "Welcome to Cheyenne Mountain."

X

"How went the debriefing?" Weir asked Sheppard as he sat and regarded his former fellow Atlantians.

Hazel eyes turned inward as he regarded his tray of military fare. "Oh, pretty much as I expected. _How went the expedition? _And_ By the way, how did you come to lose one of the most powerful and important military outposts to a swarm of bugs?_" That's pretty much how it was worded."

Teyla remarked. "Sounds familiar."

Sheppard picked dispiritedly at his tray of food. The debriefings had taken a full week to complete. At the end they were given a choice to either request reassignment or, for the non-military members at least, leave of their own accord and take up alternative careers.

Weir broached the uncomfortable subject of the loss of Atlantis and their week at Cheyenne Mountain with "Well, _that_ was fun. Now what?"

All of them smiled, a little, but it helped break the ice. Teyla offered. "I have heard of a large group of my people relocating to the Eilden system. There is a growing colony there and they are making themselves well equipped to fight the Wraith. I need a place to go and I believe they could use another hand."

Ronan added "And I'm going with her."

Sheppard gestured with his fork back and forth between them. "Are you two...um...you know, is this because..?"

Teyla smiled indulgently. "No, Ronan and I are not, as you Earth people say, "together"."

"I want to kill Wraith. They want to kill Wraith. It seems like a good choice." Ronan explained and which was for him a hefty sentence.

Weir said "I am staying Earth-side for a while, get my bearings. I want to...think about it for a while – what I want to do. Atlantis is a tough act to follow." She dropped her eyes to her coffee cup and then looked up again, managing to paint a small smile on her face. She asked "What about you, Doctor Zelenka?"

Zelenka wiped mashed potatoes off his mouth. "Oh, um, I'm taking a year off and joining an archeological expedition to MV-624. It is a very unusual solar system. Several planets with orbits that intersect and the possibility of old life perhaps - er – anyway..." He shrugged, not wanting to bore them. "It's always been a bit of a hobby of mine and now...here's my opportunity." Zelenka finished and then turned to the only doctor present "How about you, Carson? Any plans?"

"I'm going to be in Munich lending my skills learned on Atlantis to a two year study of infectious xeno-microbiology - non-Earth illnesses. Light work for a change. No Iratus bugs, Wraith, Replicators or hypochondriacs anywhere in sight."

Weir looked over at John. Her heart gave her a small pain as three years in Atlantis came flooding back. All they had accomplished together, all their struggles and sacrifices – especially the sacrifices - all of it now lying at the bottom of the ocean. And, too, Rodney McKay was gone, a good friend who should have been there. Was it kind even to ask? "And you, Colonel Sheppard? What are you going to do?"

Sheppard decided he had no appetite and pushed the tray away. He took a deep breath and let it out. It was time to tell them. It was time to admit other things to himself as well. "I am slated to become the next commander of the Daedulus." He announced, saying it casually as though it were really of no importance. "Six weeks from now."

Teyla's eyebrows climbed her forehead. "John that is wonderful news. Congratulations."

Weir felt pleased and sad all at the same time. The others shared warm words or shook his hand. She asked "So, Colonel Caldwell is stepping down?"

"More like up." Sheppard said. "We'll be calling him _General_ Caldwell from now on." And the last bit of news that had surprised even him. "He recommended me."

Ronan reached out and slapped Sheppard on his left shoulder, nearly making him fall over. "That's great." The Satedan said, one who often did not know his own strength.

Sheppard pursed his lips. It was good news but "It's going to take getting used to, I've always been either a pilot or a foot soldier. Running an entire ship..." It was different. It was new. It was not Atlantis.

Weir could not help but realise all the things it would mean for him that were positive, but what most disturbed her thoughts was the one was negative thing. There was no gentle way to broach it except "What about...how will you...I mean...the _search_?"

John knew the question was coming of course and days before had decided upon a discreet answer. "I'm sure I'll be able to continue searching, you know, when I'm not on assignment. I mean there won't be as much free_ time_ as before and no one's about to give me total reign over their Stargate so, it won't be as_ often_ as I'd like..." Sheppard licked his lips, and then nibbled the bottom one before continuing. "But...that's just how it is I guess."

It _was_ how it was, Weir thought. And to underline that sad fact even John had come to accept that none of them were likely to see Rodney ever again. Rodney McKay was most likely dead and it was time to move on with their lives. Still, it felt wrong, as though it were a kind of betrayal, as though they were somehow cheating him.

Ronan, ever sensitive to halting its progress whenever emotions threatened to spill all over the place, said "Remember when Rodney was altered by that ancient machine and became even smarter?"

Zelenka nodded vigorously. "And even _nuttier_ – yes!"

To everyone's shock, Ronan suddenly stiffened, and then turned around, lifting up his shirt as far as his neck line.

Teyla was the first to notice. "I don't understand. Where are your scars?"

Ronan smoothed his shirt down again and announced "Rodney healed me. During that time when he had all those powers. He said it was a gift."

Everyone was quiet for a moment. Ronan said "Rodney wasn't much of a fighter in the field, but he was good people."

Weir nodded. "Yes, he was."

"Plus," Teyla offered, "Doctor McKay had become quite efficient at handling most of our weapons, and over the years his aim had, I think, improved."

Simultaneously Ronan and John waggled their hands in the sign of "so-so". "Mm," John said, "let's not go nuts."

They all laughed.

Zelenka decided to share a story of his own. "Do you know there were forty-two other researchers vying for the position under Rodney at Atlantis." He offered. "And much to my shock – and terror - he picked me."

Teyla frowned good-naturedly. "Why _terror_?"

Zelenka raised his eyebrows in the expression that said he wasn't kidding. "Everyone wanted to work with him but everyone had heard of his, shall we say, abrasive personality. He used to argue with his professors you know, right there in the lecture halls. They all hated him, especially when he was right.

"Oh -" he pointed to his head. "You see this hair cut? My first day on the job Doctor McKay comes up to me and tells me to cut my hair, and to cut it short. You see, Rodney wasn't any ordinary genius, he was the kind that showed up all those other genius's who thought they were geniuses but really weren't. And in the long tradition in the fields of science, mathematics or research whenever someone achieves a title, like a PhD or whatever, it's an unspoken rule that you have to grow your hair."

At their doubtful faces he held one hand over his heart to prove his sincerity. "I'm not joking, they'll jump on you about it, believe me. Long hair, wild hair, fuzzy, pony-tail, stringy, anyway at _all_ as long as it's an Einstein level of weird." Zelenka took a much needed breath. "But the second Rodney saw my hair he looked at me like I'd crawled out from under a rock and barked at me to get it cut and not to come back until it was."

Much amused, Weir asked "What did you do?"

Zelenka shrugged. "I got it cut. I _had_ to if I wanted to stay on. It took me five hours and seven trips through the Stargate to find a world where_ someone_ was a barber of some kind. You see, Rodney always hated it when people used affectations, especially in our field, to try and look smart. He always used to say that if someone was truly smart they wouldn't need to be trying to _look_ smart. He called them idiots."

Ronan said. "But you hair's long now."

Zelenka nodded. "I hate my hair short. My mother always said it makes me look like a Hobbit. So one day Rodney and I came to a compromise. He agreed to allow me to grow my hair again and I allowed him to call me an idiot."

Laughter was shared and Zelenka crossed his heart. "True story - I swear to God – _true_ story."

Teyla looked at them sadly but with a fondness for the shared memories. "It is good to talk about him."

Sheppard looked around at the faces of his colleagues and friends, for absolutely they were both. He raised his cup. "To absent friends." They all lifted their glasses or cups and "hear-hears" were spoken all around.

They stayed that way for two more hours, talking and sharing tales of their years with Rodney and with each other. It was right that they were all here for this is where, with few exceptions, all of their careers had begun; here or Atlantis. And now all of them were about to take separate roads where they would meet new people, and form new relationships and partnerships, some of them on other worlds. And with the passage of time the memories of their times together would, as memories do, gradually fade.

But Sheppard didn't think they would ever forget Rodney McKay. You don't forget someone who had saved your life and the lives of your friends over and over, and who had sacrificed himself to save you one last time. You don't ever forget that kind of friend.

When they had finished with their drinks and meals and it seemed no one had anything more they wished to share (most would keep their private thoughts of Rodney private, for themselves alone, as a kind of treasure in their hearts), they all together stood up, preparing to leave.

No one spoke of trying to keep in touch and there were no hugs of goodbye and fare-well because no one wanted it to end. If the words were never said, then perhaps in some small way it was not an ending, just a turning of the road, or another hour on a clock somewhere that did not sound out its bells at close of day. Heads nodded and trays were cleared.

The only one to linger was Weir. "I'm sorry John, but a simple goodbye won't be enough." She wrapped her arms around him and gave into the bear hug he returned. "You take care of yourself out there," she said "or I'll come back and kick your ass for you."

Sheppard released her. "I'll do my best, boss."

He left her and walked back to his temporary quarters, a single room with a bed, one dresser and a computer desk tucked into a corner. Space was at a premium when you were inside a mountain. Although it was forbidden on site Sheppard never-the-less poured himself a shot of whiskey, chugging back half of it in one swallow.

Sheppard was almost glad to be getting away from the Atlantian planet and on to something else. He _was_ abandoning the search for Rodney, because he couldn't stand thinking about him anymore. The dreams of Rodney screaming at them to for help, or the nightmare of Rodney's body floating in space somewhere a trillion miles between stars had rocked his nights for months after Rodney was gone. They had torn into him, and now the realisation that his friend was really gone, and there wasn't a thing they could do about it, was clawing at the rest.

Missing his friend, and quietly ashamed of himself, John Sheppard finally grieved. For the first time since Rodney's disappearance, he set hope free and it left without a murmur. Then he bowed his head and wept.

XXX

More to come in Part VI. Stay tuned!


	6. Chapter 6

_**Sometime...Somehow... Part VI**_

*More geek speak, especially when it comes to the planet-side stuff. Didn't have time to take a course in geo-surveying or whatever. . I would like to say once more that this is NOT a death fic'!

XXX

Doctor Thomas Richardson thoughtfully stroked his trimmed goatee. His long, salt and pepper locks hung in his eyes like a horse's mane. "Well, perhaps you ought to get on with that, Zelenka."

Zelenka thanked him and tuned away with his notes, secretly rolling his eyes. _Perhaps you should get on with that_ was Richardson's catch-phrase. When it came to making decisions about whether or not to encourage his assistant's to test their own theories thereby bringing them to a logical conclusion or simply rendering an educated opinion on pretty well anything, it was about all the man ever said.

Zelenka watched Richardson and his weird hair retreat to his own work station. There were times Zelenka wished he was blessed with some of McKay's outspokenness, so he could spout a few words of his own and show the man just how ridiculous he looked.

Richardson may have a PhD in xeno-archaeology and been put in lead of the expedition but he was a man lacking any imagination what-so-ever, and it had rapidly became evident to Zelenka that Richardson was counting on his laurels to achieve notary in relation to the work on MV-624. The man knew his craft but was devoid of creative thinking on any level. In truth he was a dullard.

Zelenka had attempted to break the ice by offering to share a drink in the mess hall after a particularly gruelling day of surveying and sample taking. Richardson had politely accepted and, other than a few words here and there about the results of their day's work, no other conversation had taken place. Even telling him one of his best jokes had gotten little reaction and Zelenka had sighed with relief when after fifteen minutes the man had excused himself to bed.

Zelenka also found himself having to fight to implement any new idea that held merit. Where-as Doctor McKay would have at least listened and then suggest where he might go with the idea, or just where to _go_, Richardson merely hummed and nodded his head with the utmost seriousness, doing his best to look like he was grasping every word coming forth from Zelenka's mouth, and then doing absolutely nothing to assist. Zelenka was beginning to suspect that not much of what he was saying was getting through to the man.

The most teeth grinding part of the whole ordeal was privately Richardson would not sign off on any of Zelenka's work, although publically he continued to encourage Zelenka to _"Get on with that, then." _thus effectively tying Zelenka's hands of any hope of advancing his theories outside the boundaries of the Terra Cotta. Without Richardson's signature, his ideas remained dead in the water.

During his years on Atlantis McKay would have spoken his mind, bluntly told Zelenka where he was wrong, but then worked to help him achieve those things where McKay believed he was _right_. Unlike Richardson who was in it for the prestige, McKay had been a true scientist. He had loved discovery and finding the truth and then its_ proof_. Laurels and fame, except for perhaps a good word from his superiors, had not much mattered to McKay. What had mattered to him most was doing the work. Zelenka recalled many nights without sleep as they all worked until they could no longer see, but McKay working even harder alongside them, working until the man could no longer _think_. McKay might have been arrogant but at least he was arrogance with action. Richardson was arrogance with no action what-so-ever. It was bizarre.

With some difficulty Zelenka drew his mind from fonder memories of Atlantis back to his own research on MV-624. After a few hours sleep, they would conduct their fourth survey of nine pre-selected areas on the planet's surface, this next one near the equator. If there was any trace of ancient structures or quantum markers of technological development incorporating artificially produced energy on MV-624, Zelenka would find it.

He read over his notes for the previous planet-side excavations. Their xeno-paleobotanist had encountered some evidence of old life in form of carbon and tiny particles of petrified remains, but thus far no remnants of any identifiable technology, the remains of structures or intelligent life on any known level. Still it was an interesting system if only for the Red Giant star, the highly regular but unusual orbits of its twelve planets and the fifty-nine plus moons so far discovered.

A yawn took away all other thought but sleep and Zelenka turned off his tablet screen, stripped to his underwear and fell onto his cot. He was asleep in minutes.

XXX

Zelenka knew he was on his own. Richardson in his usual fashion had encouraged the idea but done nothing to assist him in its development.

The virtual conference was his idea and he had an audience of distinguished researchers to convince. Zelenka cleared his throat. "As you know we are studying MV-624 and have discovered an energy reading that I believe is worth checking out further, but it would require drilling into the planet to retrieve whatever it might be."

Immediately one of the distinguished looking researchers staring at him through the screen adjusted the glasses balanced on his nose and asked "Richardson has not even signed off on this project as yet, Doctor Zelenka, and you say you have _no idea_ what it is?" He sounded disillusioned already.

Zelenka swallowed heavily. "No, no, well, I _suspect_ I know what it is but we need further research which cannot be done effectively in the harsh environment of the planet. We, we need to bring aboard whatever it is. Doctor Richardson has said that if you agree, he will go along with your decision and the excavation can proceed."

"Or if we do _not_ agree."

Zelenka reluctantly nodded. "Yes, of course."

Another scientist, an older woman, her expression less skeptical asked "What do you _suspect_ it is Doctor Zelenka?"

Zelenka knew it was hard to swallow since no evidence of them had ever been found this far from their home territory "Er Ancient. I believe it is an Ancient energy signature. It is very faint, but it is unmistakable."

"How can you possibly be so sure?" asked a very fat man with no hair but a double chin that wiggled every time he moved his head. "There is no record of any Ancient settlement this far out."

"Well," Zelenka tried to keep his voice level. "B-but Wraith have been out this far and we know the Wraith borrowed technology from the Ancients after they won the war. The energy signature is Ancient, but I think it is likely that its source could very well be Wraith."

""Borrowed" is hardly an apt description of the pillaging the Wraith did of our ancestors and their cities."

Zelenka lowered his eyes. "No, of course not, Doctor Manning, I only meant that if this is old Wraith technology, then we have a rare opportunity to study it. The strata and layers covering the origin of the signature suggest it's been buried for approximately nine thousand years. Even _finding_ it was one in a billion and there's no telling what else may be buried with it. Plus we could survey a thousand worlds and never get such an opportunity again. I feel we must-"

Interrupting him, another scientist who reminded him of Grodin asked in a soft Middle Eastern accent "Didn't you say that this planet was coming back to its perigee in orbit around the star? If we wait we may be able to dig it up under better circumstances and so not risk bringing something so old, and possibly contaminated with who knows what, aboard the Terra Cotta."

Zelenka had saved his next bid for next to last. "We would be waiting another eight hundred to a thousand years for the planet's orbit to return to its closest point around the star for the surface ice to begin to melt. It is fifty meters thick, gentleman – and ladies - and the underlying sedimentary silica another forty-four meters." Zelenka thought _a room full of PhD's and no one wants to risk a blotch on their record_. "And any contaminant that may have been present is very unlikely to have survived such a long time under those conditions."

"But you can't be sure?" Beetie insisted, "Can you?"

Zelenka sighed softly to himself. "No, sir, I cannot be sure, but if we lose this opportunity to study Wraith adapted Ancient technology – and remember it is from a time shortly after the war - we would be _fools_. We may never have such an opportunity again in our life-times. Never mind that it would be a find of extraordinary historical significance and a feather in the scientific community's cap but, as you all know, in our war against the Wraith we are barely holding our own. This could very well help to turn the balance of the conflict to our favour." And then his coup de gras "I have already suggested as much to the President's Military Office via Stargate Command."

Richardson, in his taking no action of any sort, either for or against Zelenka's work, had actually done him a favour by granting Zelenka the freedom to do pretty much as he pleased when it came to his communications. Beetie was no doubt well aware of Richardson's poor leadership skills but then Richardson was well connected and, other than a place on the Terra Cotta Expedition Research Council, Beetie wasn't and he knew it.

"I see." Beetie appeared annoyed. "Excuse us, Doctor, as we discuss this privately."

Zelenka sat as the screen went dark for a few moments. When they came back, Beetie stated simply. "You can go ahead."

XXX

The environmental suits were bulky and hot as hell inside. Zelenka shook the sweat from his eyes, scolding himself. Outside the suit the temperature averaged minus two-hundred and four. _You should be glad you have the suit Radek. Stop complaining._

The sensors on the Terracotta II had confirmed Zelenka's discovery of what appeared to be a layer of unusual sediment, unlike anything they had found elsewhere on the planet. Zelenka kept his eyes on the readings of the MALP, this one retro-fitted with a state-of-the-art Seismic Survey Pulse Generator, an On-Site Soil Atomizer-Analyzer, Ten Million Candle Power flood lights, and a Pulse Laser Cutter.

"We're getting closer." Zelenka said unnecessarily. He knew the crew of two would simply follow him to whatever coordinates he chose. Richardson had remained behind on the ship, complaining of a headache. It was just as well, Zelenka found the man's presence only interfered with the real work being done on the expedition. Zelenka had grown used to being his own boss in the lab and at that moment what was MV-624 but an enormous lab?

Zelenka frowned. His hand-held energy scanner, slightly less powerful than the one on the MALP, suddenly began emitting a tiny light pulse – its color radiating from purple over to red and then fading. Zelenka held up his hand for the crew to stop their advancement, and then he backed up a few steps. The purple indicator re-appeared. Zelenka took another single step back, and it settled into red. "We're here." He said, sharing his thoughts, and his excitement, with them. "This is the spot from before."

He turned to the crew, pointing one white-suited finger down. "I have the same energy reading." He studied the little device's read-outs. Whatever results the scanner was giving him, they would be preliminary. They would need to get closer to the source to determine if its origin was artificial or simply some highly magnetized molten rock hundreds of meters below the surface playing a game with their instruments. "We need to dig here."

With difficulty, the female of the crew of the two handling the MALP walked over to him, stiff in her suit, and looked at the numbers on his hand-held scanner. "Richardson will want more definitive markers." She reminded him.

Through his face mask and the swirling particles of dust and ice that made up MV-624's atmosphere, she looked distorted. Zelenka nodded, finding it impossible to keep his own excitement out of his voice. "I know. Bring the MALP and we'll do a grid scan of this area to pin-point it, then we don't have to cut any deeper or wider than we have to." Once that was done, the excavators would do the rest and beam up whatever it was to the Terra cotta itself.

Hours later, with their suit oxygen heater/filters cleaned and ready for another go in MV-624's breathable but killing cold atmosphere, Zelenka oversaw the Large Pulse Laser Drill as it was guided into the correct spot and activated. He checked his numbers and over his communication link said to his two distorted looking assistants "Make sure the numbers are exact. Make sure they match up perfectly. We want exactly two-point-four meters starting at five-one-point-one-four-seven North-North-East by one-point-three meters at negative-one-one-three-point-six-seven-four South-South-West and minus ninety-two meters. I want this accurate to the millimeter."

They nodded and with the assist of the MALP's onboard computer and using a set of hydraulic-electro "feet" it automatically settled itself into the correct spot, raised its own wheels up off the surface to avoid any accidental roll, and began drilling into the planet.

XXX

Colonel Sheppard was still not used to the captain's seat and shifted his backside every few minutes. Over the last few months he'd had to up his amount of exercise in the Daedulus's small gym to counter-effect all the sitting around the job entailed. His body had protested the lack of physical activity by growing slightly thicker around the middle and his uniform felt tighter.

But at least they were heading back to Atlantis or, rather, the planet where Atlantis lay hidden at the bottom of the ocean. It was just a check-in, to make sure no Wraith or Replicators or any other unwelcome visitors had out of curiosity taken up orbit. If they were ever to raise Atlantis and rescue it from the Iratus infestation, they would need to ensure no other invaders took up residence anywhere on the planet or in orbit above it.

Sheppard let his eyes take in his former home. He had an apartment back on Earth but Atlantis he had come to regard as his real home. Sheppard hid it from everyone but he had loved Atlantis. He was a city boy and Atlantis was the ultimate city of the Galaxy. Thousands of soldiers and scientists, researchers and technicians had applied every year to join the Atlantis expedition, but only a few dozen had ever made the cut. To serve on Atlantis you had to be the best or, failing that, you had to know someone.

Sheppard hadn't known anyone and McKay, well, he had simply been the best. "Standard orbit Sergeant." Sheppard said, by now the commands associated with captaining a war ship coming automatically. Still, for all the responsibilities and challenges that had come his way, including a run-in with two Hive ships they had managed to severely damage in a battle only weeks before resulting in the Wraith ships high-tailing it through a hyperspace window to escape, it wasn't nearly as satisfying a career path as serving on Atlantis had been.

"Colonel Sheppard." The faithful Daedulus Sergeant pilot said "We are receiving a message from..."

Sheppard tried not to sound bored. "Yes? From _who_ Sergeant?"

"Well, from Deep Space Stargate Nine, sir. It's from the Terra Cotta. Science Vessel."

Sheppard sat up straighter. He was sure Radek had mentioned the Terra Cotta as the ship he was going to serve aboard for a while. Some archaeological dig way the hell out there. "Let's hear it."

"It's for your eyes only, sir." The sergeant obliged him by handing over a Tablet with the coded message already transferred.

Sheppard punched in his password and read. "Sergeant, get me General Landry at Stargate Command."

"Yes sir."

XXX

After days of excavating and removing hundreds of tons of sedimentary layers, they reached the correct depth where their tantalizing treasure had been buried for nearly ten thousand years.

An excited Zelenka oversaw the transport of the roughly three meter-long by two meter wide by one and half meters thick of mostly solid material from the surface of MV-624 to the beam-up point. The surface crew swiftly covered the block with thermal layers to insulate it from the heat of the ship until it could be ferried to the Cold-Clean-Room.

Zelenka, dressed in a silver colored Clean suit and hooked to oxygen and a body-cooling air flow, began a series of minimal-power x-rays of the entire thing section by section. "We don't want to influence or alter whatever's causing the energy signature of..._whatever_ this is." He explained needlessly to his assistant.

"Yes Doctor." His lab tech was an efficient young woman who had always admired the Atlantis expedition but had never been chosen to be a part of her crew. Working alongside Doctor Zelenka, whom she admired because he was one who _had_, was as close as she knew she was ever likely to get, especially now that Atlantis was at the bottom of its own ocean. "Shall we begin?"

"Yes thank-you Rachel." Zelenka muttered almost absent-mindedly as he studied the read-outs of the mineral content of the block. "Much of this is a semi-solid and organic." He stated, voicing his thoughts as he circled it, his face-mask plate inches from its surface. "And there appear to be some sort of spherical deposits with in the material each roughly two inches in diameter. Hmm," He said, puzzling over it. "If I were asked to guess, I'd say these were eggs."

Technician Rachel completed her x-rays and allowed the computer to combine into a whole, though not completely distinct, image on her wall screen. What she saw made her pause suddenly. She had to catch her breath before she spoke. "Doctor Zelenka."

Zelenka was still engrossed in his visual inspection of the spheres imbedded within the silica. "Mm, yes, Rachel? What is it?"

"Doctor Zelenka – _look_."

XXX

"General Landry, the message was urgent."

"What is the nature of their emergency?"

"It's not an emergency per-say, but they would like our assistance as soon as possible."

"It's a two week trip through hyperspace, Colonel. And it means losing the protection of one of our war ships. They must have given you some idea of why you're needed."

"Their Captain termed it an extraordinary geological find. One he said his scientists claimed could help us in our war against the Wraith." Sheppard did not divulge that it was Radek Zelenka who had worded that particular part of the message. And his other message.

"What have they found or _think_ they've found?" Landry asked.

Sheppard knew an old stand-by ought to satisfy the general's worries. "They said they did not want to send any more details through normal channels of communications in case the message is intercepted."

Landry set his lips into a thin line. "I see. Very well, colonel but you have exactly five weeks. Two weeks out, one there and two weeks back, and not a day more. We need our ships here."

"Understood sir."

Sheppard left his second-in-command on the bridge and retreated to his officer's den to consider Zelenka's portion of the message. And to read the private message Radek had piggy-backed on the first one. "All it read was: "Need your presence. Explain when you arrive. Urgent."

Need _your _presence. Not the ships. Sheppard had no idea why Zelenka needed him on a xeno-planetary science expedition but there was only one way to find out. He called the bridge. "Commander Sorez, open a hyperspace window and set a course for MV-624 as soon as possible."

XXX

Zelenka paced the Clean room. The x-ray wasn't lying. There was a body at the centre of the mass they had brought on board. A body, something or some_one_, had been buried along with the technology producing the low-level possibly Ancient possibly Wraith energy signature. The bone and flesh structure suggested humanoid but it was impossible to tell for sure with the lay of the body, curled up as it was into a fetal ball of tangled limbs. The skull appeared human but without melting the block there was no way to do a DNA test.

Unless they drilled into the body and took a sample. "Has the data come back on the energy signature itself?" He asked Rachel. "Broken down into its component wave lengths might help us figure out its origin." _She knows that, Radek, stop showing off. _And it would give them a clue as to what sort of being had the misfortune to have been buried on a god-forsaken planet in the middle of hell's corridor for the last nine thousand years.

Rachel called the technical lab. "Someone is bringing it down now, Doctor Zelenka."

Zelenka said "Excellent." He left the Clean Cold Room, removed his suit in the enclosed foyer, and stood still, allowing the negative air blowers to whisk away all traces of sand from his hair and skin, sucking out any possible solid contaminants from his naked body. He closed his eyes as next a fine mist of anti-septic coated him from head to foot; another precaution against contamination of the ship itself.

In the next small room, he slipped into a fresh set of scrubs and exited the elaborate lab rooms altogether, sat down in a plastic molded chair to rest his aching feet while he waited for the results to arrive from the other technicians.

He accepted the report with thanks, walked to the mess hall for a much needed coffee break, and sat gratefully back down to read at his leisure. After a few moments he frowned. "Wait a minute. This can't be right."

Zelenka called to the lab. "Mister Raeffer, are you sure these results are accurate? I'm seeing a human technological based energy signature within the wavelengths."

"We wondered about that too, but we ran them three times, Doctor. They're accurate."

"Er, all right, thank-you." Zelenka muttered. He sat back. Zelenka spoke to himself softly "Could it be that the Ancients technology, all those years ago, had managed to, either by design or accident; mimic that of Human?"

He supposed it was possible. It had to be, if the data was correct. Zelenka returned to the lab. "Rachel, let's drill and get a sample. If that is the body of an Ancient in there, I'd like to do a DNA analysis to be sure."

"Certainly Doctor - I assume you're thinking hip-bone? A large bore needle?"

"Yes."

XXX

Zelenka carefully placed the small sample of bone marrow under the microscope and peered through the viewer, annoyed as always that he had to look through his glasses. He had tried contacts before and, after only a few hours of wearing them, had ended up with irritated red eyes. It was glasses or fuzzy vision. "Incredible, the bone and marrow cells are unquestionably human and completely undamaged. It has to be an Ancient. And there are no indications of cellular degradation from the cold or from the sheer vast amount of time spent suspended in a deep freeze. No crystallization of the cells at all, and the walls are completely intact." He lifted his head and looked at the pretty red-haired Rachel. "The gel the eggs are suspended in must have anti-freeze and organic preservative properties. The stuff simply does not freeze and so whatever's inside it doesn't either – it's _amazing!"_

Rachel turned to look at the block of stuff they had brought back from the planet. "How did he get in there I wonder? And what laid the eggs?"

_How and what indeed._ Zelenka thought.

Zelenka crossed his arms. Rachel was correct. If it was an Ancient how in the world did he end up there? And _why_ since there was no record of the Ancients travelling this far from their home worlds. An energy signature with Wraith and human or possible Ancient technology, a block of sand and goo with what might be an Ancient himself curled up inside it. It didn't make any sense.

Something tickled the back of his mind and Zelenka frowned to himself. No matter how he tried to make it so, it just didn't add up. But the thought, as hard as he tried to ignore it, continued to itch at his mind until "Rachel. Let's do a DNA run through the data base."

"You mean all DNA data-bases?"

"Yes. If this guy is an Ancient he could be an ancestor of someone alive today. It's a long shot but..."

"I'll get the DNA profile done and set it up, doctor."

"Thanks."

XXX

Zelenka dismissed his assistant for some well deserved rest and spent the next several hours waiting for the data base to find a match, or not, of the DNA of the preserved body of the Ancient. In the meantime Richardson was in conference with the Science Team back on Earth to determine when and how the body should be recovered from the sediment, and who should oversee that next necessary step.

Zelenka knew that most likely Richardson would want to step in and take over, now that the more tedious stuff was passed. Whatever. As long as it was done right and he got to witness it, Zelenka didn't care who it was. He suspected the Earth Team would prefer to transport the entire thing intact back to their labs on Earth anyway, and supervise the thaw personally. The one positive thing about that it would peeve the hell out of Richardson.

His computer beeped at him for attention and Zelenka dragged his mind back to the work at hand. A family name had come up as a match for the DNA sample.

Zelenka rubbed his tired eyes and fished around for his glasses, straightening them on his nose before leaning in to read the name. For many seconds he stared at the name, frozen. "This can't...this can't be possible." He said to no one.

But the name on the screen never changed no matter how many times he read it. The implication was crystal clear. It was shockingly, horribly, heart-twistingly crystal clear. Spinning in his chair, Zelenka stared through the four inch thick glass separating him from the small outer office and the sealed Clean-Cold Room where the block of stuff hung suspended in a sterile mesh between the ceiling and the floor.

Then, in a kind of zombie walk, he stood up and went to the glass, shuffling his feet in the plastic booties he had forgotten to remove. Placing both his hands against its coolness to steady his nerves and his pounding heart, he leaned his full weight against the glass and whispered into the dead and deaf ears on the other side. "Oh dear god...I'm so sorry."

He took a moment to steady himself before donning his clean Suit once more and re-entering the room. He walked over to the block of sand, rock, eggs, goo and placing one gloved hand upon it as though greeting an old friend. "Oh my..." He whispered, leaning his head against the solid side of the thing. He could feel the cold creeping through to his head cover. It didn't matter. What was a little discomfort? "Oh my god, oh my dear, dear god...what have I done? I am so terribly, _terribly_ sorry. I...I-I'm..." He could find no other words.

Zelenka pulled himself together enough to back away from the block. He leaned against the wall and slid down to the floor, his feet no longer able to support his weight. Slowly it dawned on him what he needed to do next. He needed to send another message but this time not to the science team on Earth. This one was going elsewhere.

With some difficulty Zelenka left the Cold Room on rubbery legs, decontaminated once again and got dressed. He called his assistant, his voice hitching on every other word "Rachel - if you're n-not already i-in bed, I need y-your help."

"I'm in the Mess, doctor, what can I do for you?" And hearing his odd manner "Are you all right?"

"Uh, yes, I'm fine. But I need to...to speak to you a-about something. Could you come to my quarters for a moment please?"

"On my way."

Zelenka returned to his computer and deleted the file of the family name and all information connected to it, and then exited from the program.

There was no way in hell that anyone would be taking charge of the body but him. No way in hell's corridor.

XXX

"The Terra Cotta is n range, sir. On the screen now."

Sheppard nodded a greeting to the Captain of the Terra Cotta, an older woman with a pleasantly round face but eyes that could burn through steel. "Captain Del-Porter, I'm Colonel Sheppard."

"Welcome Colonel. We're glad to have your assistance. Frankly we were nervous about transporting our find with only the Terra Cotta to protect it. This isn't exactly a ship fit for battle."

"Understood." The Terra cotta had two guns and minimal shields. In a fight against a Wraith or Replicator ship it would go down quickly.

"Colonel. One of our scientists is a man of your acquaintance I believe. Doctor Radek Zelenka."

Sheppard nodded again. "Yes, we've worked together before."

"On Atlantis, yes, I am aware. May I say how sorry we all were to learn of the loss of that great city."

"Thank you, Captain, I appreciate that. Now I'd like to request transport over to your ship if that's all right with you? My superiors are anxious to hear the latest on whatever it is you've found."

"Of course."

XXX

Radek Zelenka gripped and shook Sheppard's hand like it was a life-line. "Good to see you, Colonel."

Sheppard returned the handshake. "Hey Doc', good to see you too." He then leaned in and spoke softly "What's going on?"

Zelenka was putting on a show, however, for his fellow scientists. He turned to his Captain. "Sir, I'd like to give the colonel a quick tour of the ship if that's all right?"

With the Captain's smile, Zelenka hurried off with Sheppard in tow, saying things like "She's a fine ship and we have the best teams anywhere in the galaxy."

Once he was out of earshot of the others, though, he stepped closer and whispered hoarsely. "I need your help to get him home."

Sheppard tilted his head. "I don't follow you. Who are we getting home?"

Zelenka looked around with wild eyes, his manner bordering on hysterical. "Come with me."

Sheppard followed Zelenka to the room next to the Clean-Cold Room. He pointed through the glass and Sheppard peered at the bulky block of what appeared to be rock and other sediments suspended in mid air on the other side. "You found old Wraith technology" Sheppard said. So far that's all he knew. "Now look Radek, I convinced my superiors that you needed the Daedulus so I hope you have something more than a big chunk of rock."

Zelenka grabbed one of his sleeves and pulled him over to his desk. Digging a key out of his pocket, he unlocked it the bottom drawer and retrieved a file folder. "Here are the x-rays of what's inside." He thrust a series of films into Sheppard's hands.

Sheppard took the films and obliged the hyper scientist. "Just so you know I don't exactly read x-rays as a hobby..." But it was clear that some sort of humanoid was curled up inside the rock. "So you found a petrified Ancient?" He said to Zelenka as he flipped through the films. "That's kinda cool but I still don't see-"

"It's Rodney." Zelenka announced.

Sheppard stopped breathing and turned to stare at Zelenka, but his eyes could not be away from the image on the films for longer than a few seconds before they were drawn back to them. "What did you just say?" He had to make sure.

"I said it's Rodney, John. It's Doctor McKay. And he's not petrified, although..." Zelenka's expression suddenly fell a little "he is, um, he is...dead of course. But, no, not petrified."

Sheppard stared at the film and then turned his head and did the same to the block of rock and other minerals hanging from the ceiling of the Cold Room like so much beef. He walked over to the glass. "But...but you said...your energy signature, in your message, you mentioned an energy signature from something that was buried a hundred meters down. How could Rodney be a hundred meters beneath soil that hasn't shifted for ten thousand years?" And how can Rodney be _dead? _How can the universe have _allowed_ that? After all Rodney did for them, after his final totally selfless act, how could they all end up here in this room living and breathing but Rodney in that room having already breathed his last long, long ago?

Sheppard felt like hitting something. Or screaming.

Zelenka bit his lip. "Rodney told us this could happen."

"He said anyone who went inside that worm-hole might be thrown back in time, not that they'd be buried in a three hundred foot grave." Sheppard was suddenly furious. He cursed all the fates who had so little disregard for his friend that for his heroic deed they would punish him in such a terrible way. It was an offence to every good thing the man had stood for and it was the supreme insult those who'd loved him. "Why is he still in there, anyway? Why haven't your teams taken him out of there Zelenka?" _Rodney doesn't deserve this!_

"We don't want to thaw out the block until we have it in a better equipped lab." Zelenka urged john to listen closely by drawing him away from the glass and into a corner. "Look, there's a bigger problem.'

Sheppard almost laughed in his face as his heart began to ache with an intensity he had not felt since..."What could possibly be bigger than –"

"They'll want to _study_ him, colonel." Zelenka whispered fiercely. "Do you understand what I'm saying? They'll want to study, meaning dissect, meaning sending _pieces_ of him to labs all over the world until they can discover why his cells have not degraded in any way."

Zelenka hoped he was getting through to the emotionally stricken soldier. "They'll want to _cut him up_."

Sheppard stared at the smaller man, his eyes ablaze with unshed tears and fury – oh! the _fury_ at what had happened to his friend. Somewhere deep down he had always harbored a tiny hope that Rodney had landed on some wonderful planet somewhere where there was plenty of food and water and where the sun always shined in the heavens.

He had never imagined this kind of ignominious end for him_. Never, never, never..._

"Colonel," Zelenka said sharply to draw Sheppard's attention away from where Rodney's body hung suspended and hidden from naked eyes. "I called you here because we have to take Rodney elsewhere and we have to do it secretly. Do you understand? And time is short. We have to steal his body or that's exactly what's going to happen – they'll cut him up like so much salami." Zelenka added "We want to take Rodney home, don't we - for a proper burial? We both know he deserves at _least_ that, colonel. Please, John...because I don't give a damn about the repercussions, we _have_ to do this."

Sheppard cleared his throat, desperately trying to keep his tears in check and his mind focused. He looked at Zelenka and took a deep breath. "One body snatch coming up."

XXX

Part VII soon


	7. Chapter 7

_**Sometime...Somehow... Part VII**_

"So how do we do this?" Sheppard had spent the afternoon greeting Captain Del-Porter's staff and unofficially inspecting the Terra Cotta II, giving it the green light for efficiency and fitness. His underlying thoughts all the while focused only on what was happening in the science Labs and Zelenka's preparations for stealing Rodney McKay's body and taking it...the somewhere they had not decided on yet.

Now he was sharing a coffee with Zelenka in one corner of the mess hall. "So how do we snatch Rodney's body without anyone knowing about it?"

Zelenka leaned in, keeping his voice low. "Well, all we have to do is decide on a time to transport it from the Terra Cotta II to the Daedulus and then hyper-jump away – without giving them a flight plan of course."

"That's it?"

Zelenka nodded. "Yes. Why?"

"I just figured it'd be more complicated than that, so here's a complication - you know I can't just open a hyper space window and leave, right? I can't ignore my orders to protect the Terra Cotta. I can't just abandon them for the next two weeks."

Zelenka nodded. "We can wait until just before our arrival at Earth to do the transport, and then they'll be close enough to Earth's defenses before we jump away."

Sheppard's coffee had gone cold and he pushed it away. "We can't transport anything while in hyperspace, Zelenka. Both ships will have to drop out first."

"Well, we'll just have to invent an excuse to do so."

Sheppard sighed. "If the Daedulus has to drop out of hyperspace, then the Terra Cotta'll be forced to also." Sheppard tried not to think about the Court Marshall that was in store for him. "But it won't be easy, my people are good, they're going expect a valid reason."

Zelenka said. "Leave that to me. I can send a fake message to the Daedulus, maybe a false emergency signal from a nearby ship, something that'll force you to check it out. Both ships will drop out of hyperspace, we transport Rodney and then we get the hell out of there."

Sheppard shook his head. "We're nuts for doing this, you know. It'll be the end of both our careers."

Zelenka nodded. "What happened to Rodney is _my_ fault. I have to at least try and make it up to him."

_The problem is he won't even know about it._ Sheppard thought. "The problem is, it's not just Rodney we'll be stealing, it's the eggs or whatever they are, too. Your science friends are going to want those back."

"We'll make sure to preserve them. Rodney gets a proper burial. After that, I don't care what happens. What about you, Colonel?"

One side of Sheppard's mouth turned up in an ironic smile. "Oh, I'll be going to jail." His expression sobered. "But...to hell with everything - Rodney's worth it." He only wished he'd had the opportunity to tell him as much.

Zelenka changed tact. "Any luck with Atlantis?"

"Four different teams have beamed down to the areas of the city that aren't flooded. Four different deadly pesticides alongside anti- electronic pulses – hell they've even tried atomized cyanide with re-programmed _anti_-nanite nanites. Nothing works for long." Sheppard said, "Plus they just can't get the stuff to all areas of the city at the same time. The damn things are eradicated in one tower while they multiply in another."

"The Replicators are counting on us eventually giving up and abandoning the city for good."

"Not while there's even the smallest chance." Sheppard answered "At least not while I'm still in the fight. And if the time comes where we _have_ to give it up, then we'll _blow_ it up; destroy everything before the goddamn Replicators have a chance to set up house."

"When do we reach Earth?"

"Two days." Sheppard said, looking around the Daedulus's mess hall at the half dozen or so crew eating meals or just sharing a coffee and a few minutes of talk. They were good people. He hated deceiving them. "You haven't mentioned what you plan to do once we reach Earth orbit, other than both of us getting arrested."

"There is only one person who'll understand what we're trying to do. Hopefully he'll be willing to help."

Sheppard followed his line of reasoning. "Carson? He's in Munich."

"I know. I just hope he has a private lab or office or somewhere we can take Rodney -"

"- I have a better idea. Carson may be temporarily helping with...whatever it is he's helping, but he's still military personnel. I say we try Teyla and Ronan. There's less at stake for them. Anyway, they both left the service." Sheppard said. "They can charge a civilian with theft but they can't Court Marshall them. Once we get him...once we _have _Rodney, we retro-fit a Puddle Jumper for cold storage and we jump back to Earth, first to hand Rodney over to his family for burial, and then to greet the end of our shorter-than-expected careers."

"But I thought all the Jumpers were lost?"

"Most of them are at the bottom of Atlantis's ocean but four were salvaged before we sunk the city. And those four were fitted with Hyper-jump capability in line with Rodney's design. And I just happen to know to which colony one of them was donated for indefinite use."

"Eilden?"

"Bingo. And the best part is even though it's a civilian colony they have government funded state of the art medical and research facilities." Sheppard looked forward to getting off the Daedulus for a while, and then remembered that he probably wouldn't be returning. Seeing he was about to steal a nine thousand year old body that technically belonged to a project funded by Stargate Command and its Science departments, it was doubtful he'd be welcomed back with opened arms. "Best of all, this way we can leave Carson out of it. No point in _all_ of us going to jail."

XXX

In answer to his message, Teyla replied with a short one of her own. She was understandably upset but supportive. _"Am very sorry to hear about Rodney. Like assist in any way but civilian status only and no direct access to colony medical facilities. However friends willing to help us. Ronan also here. States he will secure Puddle Jumper ready for when needed. Carson contacted from our end. Wishes to assist and will star-gate to Eilden within the day. Elizabeth aware of situation. Will seek what legal counsel possible for you and for Rodney's family Earth-side. God speed to all."_

Sheppard met Zelenka in the lab next to the Terra Cotta's Cold Room, and shared the news. "Well, so much for keeping the collateral damage down to a minimum."

"It's just as well. You know how pissed off Carson would be if he hadn't been told?" Zelenka said, and then blew air from between his lips. "_And_ Elizabeth? First she'd kill you, and_ then_ go to work on you."

"Yeah." Without a doubt they could use all the help they could get. Sheppard took one final look at the chilled earthen coffin that contained their friend. Screw duty and protocol. For all the times Rodney had complained to him about his penchant for doing things, if at all possible, by the book, this was one time he could oblige his friend by tossing the book out the proverbial window. "Come on Radek; let's get this show on the road."

XXX

Zelenka took his pretty assistant by the elbow and steered her away from the laboratory cameras with their tiny built-in mic's. "Are you sure about this? You don't have to help me, you know. Faking a distress message will get you into big trouble."

Rachel put one hand on her employer's shoulder. "I said I _want_ to help. Doctor McKay's your friend."

Zelenka had no choice but to bring his assistant in on the conspiracy to commit theft of the body of one Doctor Rodney McKay. She had to generate the fake distress call and then wait until the Daedulus could make good its hyper-jump. Zelenka looked worried.

Tall Rachel took him by complete surprise by leaning down just enough to hug him tightly, dislodging his glasses askew and nearly squeezing the air from his lungs. She then kissed him hard on the mouth. After letting him go she whispered seductively into his ear. "Radek, if you need my help, for anything at all – _call_ me."

Radek, face flushed, pushed his glasses back up his nose and stammered "Uh, th-thank you, Rachel, I will."

With the help of the pretty Rachel, the theft went off without a hitch.

XXX

Carson Beckett stepped out into bright sunshine and took a breath of air. Munich could get along without him for a while. And he wasn't going to miss this event for a world of studies, notoriety or anything else, even though the news was not what any of them had hoped for.

In a sad, sad way, Rodney had come home. Assuring him a decent burial was the least they could do. Besides if they didn't do it, who would? Rodney's parents were dead, and his sister thus far unreachable. It was just as well since they dare not tell her about it yet because then she might tell her husband and before they knew it the whole story would be in the wind. If that happened they as the thieves in the scenario would be tracked down for sure.

Even now, Beckett knew that sooner or later someone was going to figure out where they'd taken Rodney and show up armed to the teeth with Law Officers, forms covered with rules, and legal forensic claims to a nine thousand year old corpse. Their whole purpose: study it, learn as much as possible, and then share it with other labs.

Teyla greeted him at the facility door. "Doctor Beckett, it is very good to see you." She embraced him. This was not the military. There was no standing on appearances here. "I only wish that the circumstances were not so."

"So do I lass."

Beckett admired the white flowing robes Teyla was wearing that accentuated her wide shoulders and strong build. She explained. "Among my people wearing the white robe is a sign of deep respect to a beloved ancestor of wisdom and courage. Rodney may not have been a relative in flesh but he is still my family."

Becket nodded. _Ancestor..._ Of course, Rodney was now over nine thousand years old. She led him down a long hall and introduced him to a large man with a somewhat bovine-ish face standing outside a metal door. "This is my friend Garte'n." Teyla said "Garte'n, please make sure Doctor Beckett has full access to anything he requires, anywhere in this facility."

The large man nodded to each of them and Teyla showed Becket inside the room. It was just an office, but its ceiling was cross-crossed with large thick pipes. A steady drone of forced air was flowing through them and Becket understood that they most likely lead to a nearby cold room where Rodney's body, and the solids that contained it, were being kept.

Teyla said to Beckett. "This facility is government funded but it is run by the colony." She pointed to a coat rack. "They have provided everything we need. If anything has been forgotten, please tell me and I will speak to them."

Beckett asked. "And they have agreed to help us." Beckett removed his suit jacket and donned a lab coat that was hanging on the coat hook.

"Yes."

"What sort of facility is this?"

"It is an animal research centre designed to examine genetically modify animals. Here is where the researchers learn whether or not their flocks are adapting to the environment of this planet."

"Are ya' sayin' this is a slaughter house?"

"In its original design yes. But here we use it for non-lethal research. And as such it seemed the best choice for what Zelenka specified was needed. I understand the block of material containing Rodney's body is rather large. A normal medical facility would not have sufficed. Plus it is less likely that we will be sought for here."

"I see. And your people did this all for nothing just because you asked?" Damn accommodating folks, these friends.

"These are my people and they know I have undergone the ritual to proclaim Rodney as part of my family, and so he belongs to them as well."

"Er, what sort of ritual?"

"Yes. Since we could not reach his sister, I chose to become his surrogate relative. It saddens me greatly that it had to be posthumously, but now in every way but blood Rodney is my brother."

"I've never heard of this."

Teyla's eyes watered. "I have always considered my friends akin to family, Carson, including you. The authorities are searching for Rodney to seize him as scientific research _property_, and I could not allow that to happen. Now that he is recognised under _our_ Athosian law as my brother, they cannot touch him without my consent. If they try, they will be forced to deal with us under the new Universal laws that they themselves have written governing Earth and her sister planets."

Beckett only nodded at her, stunned by a side of Teyla he had never before met. The woman was a force to be reckoned with, in any galaxy. "I'm glad you were here ta' help." He said.

"As was I." She smiled warmly, but her eyes were still sad. It was a sad time. "They are all waiting for you." Gesturing with a nod in the direction of another door, "It is through there."

XXX

"My god..." It took Beckett a few minutes to absorb what he was seeing. "Rodney...is in _there_?" There was no true question in his words, merely the fact of it. A soft sorrow, however, marked his handsome features.

The block of sand, rocks, eggs and the greyish goo, which Zelenka had coined MV-624 Preservative Organic Medium Number One, in which McKay's body was encased sat on sterilized plastic slats. It took up most of the room. Along one entire wall sat three huge floor freezers, one for the eggs, one for the sand and other rock material, and the third for Rodney.

Zelenka stood beside him, almost shoulder to shoulder. And unconscious offer of comfort. He understood how difficult it was to comprehend. He had examined the DNA results himself a dozen times before he could believe it. "We have to get him out of there, Carson, without destroying the eggs."

Beckett nodded. "I haven't participated in any practical pathology for years, but I brushed up on my way here. As I understand it as long as we carefully regulate the ambient temperature and humidity in the room we should be able to thaw both organisms out without any cellular dehydration." Beckett suddenly felt grieved at his choice of words. Rodney, a good friend, was now an organism.

"It's then just a matter of returning the eggs to their preservative medium and...putting Rodney's body in cold storage." To keep his mind on what they were trying to do Beckett turned to his tray of instruments and the scanning machines set up on the nearby table. "I'd like to examine him, without dam...harming him of course before we...ahem."

Zelenka nodded. "Right." He slipped a paper mask over his nose.

Just then the air-sealed door opened and Sheppard walked in wearing a paper gown and mask. He quickly closed the door and air vacuums automatically switched into overdrive, drawing out whatever heat and moisture he had brought into the room. His boots clumped with a metallic clang as he walked the few feet from the door to the where the other two were standing by the table.

He looked down. Over almost every square meter of floor was a grate. To drain off water and other fluids, he supposed.

Beckett said. "John, I don't think you want to be here for this."

Sheppard crossed his arms and took a few steps back until his backside hit the edge of another un-used table. He got comfortable and said in no uncertain terms or tone "Like hell I don't."

Beckett and Zelenka exchanged looks. "Colonel, this might not be...pleasant."

Behind the mask Sheppard's face turned to stone. "He was _my_ best friend. I was there when this all started and I'm sure as _hell_ going to be here at the end."

"Then here," Beckett tossed him a pair of sterile gloves. "Ye' can help us with tha' work."

Sheppard snapped on the gloves.

Zelenka played with the keyboard. "Here we go."

Sheppard watched his friends who watched the block of material. Neither made a move to touch it. "Now what?" He asked, already growing frustrated that the two weren't doing anything.

"The temperature of the room has been increased by twelve degrees Celsius." Beckett offered "So now we wait for it to thaw."

It took half the day for the thing to become soft enough that grains of sand and some of the fluids surrounding the eggs started to fall away and drip. Then Zelenka showed Beckett and Sheppard how to carefully remove chunks of the sand and goo-ey stuff, and the eggs which they separated, and place each of the separated pieces in large sealable plastic bags. Each bag was then marked and placed into one of the large freezers.

Finally the rough mold of a man appeared beneath all the muck, curled up on its side, limbs tucked in close to its body. Beckett paused for a moment and then said to Zelenka. "We'll need the warm water hose to...wash him off."

With practised hands Zelenka pulled a hose down from its ceiling hook. Already attached was a spray nozzle to control the pressure and flow of the water. They made quick work of washing off most of the guck clinging to his body.

Once they were done, they transferred the body to a second metal examination table, Beckett said "Help me straighten out the limbs and lay him on his back."

Sheppard stepped over to help. "Let me."

Zelenka moved aside, cautioning "Gently."

He nodded curtly, having had no intent of anything other. Gentleness was all he could ever offer this man who once was his best friend, and he was surprised that Zelenka would not know that.

But Sheppard almost gasped at how cold the body still felt beneath his fingers. He realised he had been foolishly expecting soft flesh flush with warm blood. A terrible wave of sadness came over him from his gut-outward, making him stagger a bit, and soundly reminding him that this was not Rodney McKay, this was not his best friend.

It was only a body.

Beckett, all professional now, held back the long, scraggly hair from the body's forehead. The closed eyes looked peaceful. If this were a bedroom he would almost expected Rodney to wake up and demand what the hell they were doing with his hair. Instead he merely commented "He looks very thin."

Up to now Sheppard had avoided looking too closely at the face but now he did. Whatever Rodney had gone through before he died, it had demanded every last morsel of strength. His cheeks were hollow and he appeared frail beneath the raggedy remnants of the uniform that was now much too baggy on his frame. Rodney had never been a big man, but now he seemed infinitely smaller.

But other than the loss of weight he had not seemed to age a day. Sheppard was well aware that he had new wrinkles around his eyes of late, and had spotted a few grey hairs here and there and on Carson's head as well. Almost imperceptibly the years had passed and one day he had woken up older than he was used to. He was closer to forty than thirty and he had slipped into that realm of years where time was thickening around him, showing the heaviness of its hand more than before. It was smiling while it poked a finger here and there, at his mind and body, reminding him with glee that he was not immortal.

But Rodney, even with dishevelled tangles for hair and his skin caked in goo and dirt, still seemed to be on the fresh side of thirty. As though, even with all the deprivation and suffering he had obviously endured, he had remained young. But Rodney did not open his eyes. He was no longer young. Rodney was dead and for the first time that naked and merciless reality was sinking into Sheppard like a stone thrown from a mountain top into the deepest sea.

Beckett stood back as Zelenka began to direct the powerful spray over the body. Black and red rivulets of dirt and left-over goop were sluiced away from his pale skin, running in streams to the grate below. The hose got rid of most of the mess, but not all. Once Zelenka was finished he said to Sheppard. "We're going to remove his clothing now. Are you sure you want to be here for this?"

But Sheppard remained where he was. Being anywhere else at this moment and day would have killed him just as dead as a bullet to the heart would have. Sheppard wanted to look at his friend, and his friend looked peaceful, rested even – _young! _

Rodney's eyes remained closed against their sad scrutiny. How Sheppard wished he could see those eyes just one more time. Those deep set, animated, flashing, cornflower-blue, marvelous eyes that had demanded everything of their owner in life but almost nothing of life itself. Eyes that could peel your skin back with their patronizing glower, eyes that looked with such trust they spurred you to greater things that even you believed you were capable, eyes that stunned you speechless with their child-like hope, eyes that tore your heart to ribbons when you unintentionally caused their owner hurt, and eyes that staggered your world with their bottomless, soul-swaying vulnerability. Of every part seen or unseen of his friend that he missed, like an aching hollow in his soul, Sheppard missed those perfectly wonderful Rodney McKay eyes the most. "Doc'..?"

"I know." The skin on the face had not escaped the notice of Beckett. "It's like he didn't age a day. I suppose it could have something to do with the preservative fluid the eggs were in."

Zelenka picked up two pairs of sharp surgical scissors, handing one to Beckett. They began cutting away the soaked material, laying each section aside on its own metal-topped table. Part way through, before he reached the sleeves to cut them away as well, Zelenka stopped. "Here's the source of the signal we detected."

He held up a weird combo of items. A Stargate Command issue personal transponder, which Sheppard easily recognised, and what appeared to be an antique Wraith Disruptor, the latter which had been jury rigged to flow power to the former. "Rodney connected them." Zelenka explained, noting his old boss's handiwork with pride. "That's why his transponder didn't run out of power, even after nine thousand years." He set them aside as well and returned to the task of cutting away the remainder of the clothes on the body.

Finally the body was nude and Sheppard, after one glance at his dead friend's shocking thinness, averted his eyes until a clean towel was laid over the groin area. At this late date he did not want to compromise his friend's dignity, even if his friend was no longer aware of the gesture.

Beckett said "Radek, help me roll him over. We'll examine the posterior first."

Beckett sucked in a quick breath that made Sheppard look up again. A long diagonal scar was clearly visible across Rodney's back. It had not yet turned white. "This must have happened not long before he died." Beckett commented. "I wonder what caused it."

Sheppard, too, his throat and breath narrowing to a thin tube of forced air at the sight, wondered at the terrible wound it must have been when fresh and the miracle that Rodney had somehow managed to stave off infection.

Sheppard noted the other most shocking sight. "He was starving when he died." He said softly. Rodney had lost almost all his body fat and a song could have been played on his ribcage.

Sadly, "Aye," Beckett agreed.

Of all the agonies his friend must have gone through, that one bothered Sheppard the most and his throat ached to cry out for him because his friend no longer could. A host of memories appeared before him where a very much alive Rodney strolled through the city through-out the day, happily snacking on this or that in order to, as he had often claimed, stave off his hypoglycemic reactions.

But this wasted being was a testament to the deprivation Rodney must have gone through, and an abomination to his life-loving ways.

Sheppard was kicked from his memories by a buzzing sound. He looked up to see Radek using a hair shaver on Rodney's head, buzzing the long, dirt-clogged hair down to a respectable length of about an inch. A tad shorter than Sheppard recalled Rodney cutting his hair. It was neat again but it didn't look right.

Beckett retrieved another electronic looking device and laid it beside Rodney's head, attaching tiny electrodes to his skull where the hair was shortest or missing altogether. "I'm going to scan for residual radioactive contamination."

"You mean he's radioactive?" Sheppard asked.

Zelenka shook his head. "If he was, at least to a dangerous level, our regular Geiger counter would have already nailed it. We're just gathering as much information as possible for the researchers." Zelenka was quick to clarify "I know it seems a little sterile and unfeeling, but we already stole his body, it seems the least I can do is provide them with a data base of information on the results of the dig they funded."

Sheppard nodded once. He was not offended. Rodney would be involved with one last big research project. Hell, he would be the central and sought after relic, maybe even the _Eureka_! Rodney himself would have loved the idea, if he were actually there.

Beckett was frowning at his screen. "Hm, I'm getting a reading of some kind, but it's erratic. I can't shake it down to a recognizable pattern."

Zelenka said "Try increasing the output."

Beckett was fiddling with the dials. "Already did." He said. "It's stronger now." Shaking his head "It's not radiation, I'm not sure wha...what the hell I _am_ seeing...but this, I mean it can't be – I-I don't see..._how_ –oh my _god._"

Sheppard asked. "What's up doc'?" Beckett's normally soft taupe skin had turned white!

Beckett stammered "I-I think I'm getting - I think its _brain_-waves."

Zelenka and Sheppard looked at each other. It is a cautionary tale their eyes seem to say to one another. Perhaps Beckett had been working too hard lately?

Not for a remote second believing that it meant anything other than a malfunction, Sheppard cleared his throat and asked "And what does that mean?"

Looking at his read-outs once more just to be sure he wasn't seeing things or maybe still curled up dreaming in his bed-y-by. "Merciful Mother," Beckett said, spinning one-eighty degrees to stare at them both with a face as white a limestone. "What d'ya' _think_ it means? It means he's bloody alive!"

XXX

"Radek, get some thermal blankets." Beckett stared at John who was not moving but was instead staring down at the body of McKay that to him still, for all intents and purposes, appeared as dead as a proverbial doorknob. "Colonel, help him and be quick about it."

Sheppard sprung to action but it was on uncertain legs with uncertain steps he did so. Because it was crazy, what they were doing. It was nuts, ridiculous and completely out to lunch. Rodney was dead. But his feet somehow made it to the cupboards to help Radek with the blankets, and his hands did what they were asked to do by switching each blanket control to its highest setting. They started spreading them over the body.

With one eye Sheppard kept a watch on Beckett. Their own task was almost complete, but nothing had changed and, even worse, the doctor was no less nuts than a moment before.

Beckett clearly didn't think he was nuts and had spent that same time throwing open other cupboards and drawers, looking for something. Finally he said "Oh thank _god_."

Sheppard recognised the defibrillator that the doctor brought to the table and plugged in to the socket somewhere down below. As Sheppard and Zelenka finished arranging the warming blankets on the ice-cold body, Beckett barked. "Radek, do you know how to start an IV?"

Radek jumped like he'd been bitten. "Uh, well, no."

Becket shoved him aside unceremoniously and dug around in more drawers. Finding what he was looking for, an IV line, a new hypodermic and a bag of simple saline solution, he swiftly arranged them all beside Rodney's left arm. Not bothering with a sterile wipe, with some effort he tried twice and on the third try managed to get the needle into the largest visible vein he could find. He attached the IV bag, opened the port wide and said to Radek. "Get a pan of hot water so we can warm the stuff before it goes into his body. It'll help heat up his core more rapidly."

Like a prairie rabbit on caffeine Radek jumped to the task.

Sheppard just staggered back a bit on his heels and watched the insane circus playing out in the death room. He could feel the air trickling into his lungs despite his whole-body shock, and hear his own heart pounding in his ears louder and louder and louder... Beckett looked like he knew what he was doing and yet the nuts factor hadn't budged at all.

Beckett squeezed a small portion of the current binding medium onto one side of the defibrillator paddles and placed them in position on Rodney's raw-boned chest. Beckett suddenly yelled "Clear", causing Sheppard to nearly jump out of his boots.

Beckett zapped Rodney and his body twitched - only twitched - just once.

But nothing else happened. _Still nuts._ Sheppard decided but watched in fascination as Beckett never-the-less tried zapping life back into a nine thousand year old corpse, life that had been drained from it centuries ago. _Nuts, crazy, cracked..._

"Charging to two-fifty." Beckett announced and sent the current through the rib cage for a second time. This time the body's torso jumped a centimeter off the table. "It's having an effect." Beckett said.

Sheppard could see no after-difference though. Shouldn't Rodney be scolding them by now? After all this was pretty fly-by-night doctoring. Beckett wasn't even wearing his stethoscope.

"Three hundred!" Beckett shouted and sent the charge through a third time.

Sheppard watched, almost as though the insanity was happening in slow motion. Rodney's body lurched off the table as though stung by a bullet. Then his chest rose and fell once.

Twice.

Three times.

Then it settled into a steady, though shallow, rhythm. With two thick fingers Beckett felt at Rodney's throat. "I've got a pulse."

It was Beckett's turn to stand back and look as his corpse came to life before all of their bulging eyes. Sheppard almost expected that if he looked up he would see the steeple of an abandoned watchtower above him through which he could see the night sky and the lightning flashing with maniacal glee followed by thunder clashing its inhuman laughter to announce that what _could not happen_ had just happened.

In a spectacle, through a current of electric life, the once dead had been brought back to life.

_It's alive..._ Sheppard thought. _Jesus-H-Christ!_

But "it" was not just a body any longer. It was Rodney, a friend. Sheppard turned his head to speak though never letting his eyes leave alone the suddenly breathing dead man. "What the hell did you just _do_, Carson?" _Doctor Frankenstein I presume?_

Beckett just shook his head over and over in disbelief. "I didn't do a damn thing, Colonel. Not really. But he's...but Rodney's alive just the same." As were they all, Beckett was yet in doubt of his own eyes. He whispered "Sweet Jesus in Heaven. He's alive."

XXX

Part VIII soon.


	8. Chapter 8

**_Sometime...Somehow... Part VIII_**

Beckett, the one trained in the physical art of people care (those living and those just on the cusp of living), was the first to get his head clear enough to start thinking like a doctor again, and he barked at his help mates. "More thermal blankets!"

It was enough to stir both Zelenka and Sheppard from their shock and get them moving with a purpose. Once every blanket in the surrounding offices was commandeered to their logical use, Beckett took one kind physician's finger and ever-so-gently opened Rodney's left eyelid. Using a physician's pen-light he shone it into one eye then the other. "Pupils are equal, round, reactive. That's good." Beckett said, falling into his habitual doctor-speak.

Sheppard recognised the medical lingo. "That means his brain is functioning properly, doesn't it?"

Beckett nodded. "As far as I can tell so far, yes. Whether or not the higher brain functions have survived this long..."

Beckett's cautionary words sent an icy slush directly to his guts and Sheppard bit down hard on his bottom lip. Suppose they had just awakened Rodney to a life of a younger-looking vegetable? Suppose it was only his body and the autonomic functions of his lizard brain that was awake while the rest of him was still dead in a millennial, and now, eternal slumber? Instead of being blessed with a resurrection to be spent among his friends and family, they may have just cursed him to a blank slate of a life to be spent among indifferent strangers, pap feeding tubes and adult diapers. "Doc..."

Becket could hear Sheppard's fear inside the word. "His temperature is almost normal. Give him some time, Colonel. He's still a bloody long hike from being well." Beckett checked the pulse at the sleeping man's throat and was busy listening to his chest. "Lungs sound clear. Heart rate is steady and strong. We're not out of tha' woods yet but maybe we can see tha' edge of it."

Rodney gave a small cough and they all nearly jumped out of their skins. "I think he's waking up." Beckett said helpfully.

Sheppard's entire nervous system was dancing on the edge of hysteria. "Yeah, doc' - _thanks_."

Then, to their collective astonishment, Rodney McKay opened his eyes.

No one dared breathe.

Beckett looked over his shoulder to Sheppard, whispering "Colonel. You're his closest friend; I think it should be your face he sees first."

Sheppard nodded, having to force his feet to walk over to the bed. _One boot at a time, come on boys, you've walked lots of places before, no problem_. But he was terrified. Was this really Rodney or his warmed-over flesh that had no idea nor cared whether its brain was there with it? That would be infinitely worse. "Rodney?"

_Those eyes!_ Those baby blue eyes of Rodney looked around at the ceiling tiles, and then drifted over to where John stood next to the right side of the bed.

Sheppard leaned over a little so it would be easier for his friend to get a clear view of his face. "Rodney? It's John."

The tension in the room might have cracked the place in two; such was the fear that they had just brought back to life a mindless lump of organs and tissue.

Sheppard held his breath. _Does he even hear me at all? Why the hell won't he answer?_ "Rodn-?"

"John..?"

The voice - still recognizable. Those golden chords, though weak with hunger and sleep, were also thick with surprise, gladness and the sweet, sweet sound of a child's hope.

"Yeah." John laid one hand on his friend's bony shoulder. "Yeah, it's me, Sheppard. Beckett's here, too, and Radek."

Rodney continued to stare into Sheppard's eyes unblinkingly. The intensity of that gaze was...uncomfortable. Looking down into the dual portals of his eyes was like trying to see into a secret world of visions that only Rodney knew about, but the glass itself still clouded, the secrets still hidden.

"How ya' doin'? " _Stupid question, idiot!_ "Are you feeling all right?" _Better._ Sheppard managed to hold his tongue. _Give the man a minute, he's been gone a while._

Then Rodney actually chuckled very softly, and said in a voice so thin with dehydration and ill use it physically hurt to hear it. "Sure. Wha' appen' t'you John? Y-you used t'come 'round 'ere all-a-time."

XXX

"I don't know quite what's going on yet." Beckett said to them. Teyla and Ronan had joined them and the tangled group of old friends were huddled together in a nearby room while Rodney slept off some of his nine thousand year coma.

Sheppard felt like a man gut-shot. It seemed Rodney was back...but only sort of. At least this room had stuffed chairs, heat and a substance euphemistically called coffee. With lots of sugar and powdered milk, it tasted almost passable. With a sinking heart Sheppard remembered how after his first and only words Rodney's eyes drifted away from them and from everything else. After that he refused to acknowledge their presence in the room at all. "Well, what do you_ think_ is wrong with him?"

Beckett scratched fingers through his thick mane of buzzed hair. "Well, physically he seems to be recovering, but mentally he seems confused or frightened – probably _both_. I'm not sure if it's because he doesn't believe his own eyes or because he doesn't believe we're real or doesn't believe _he's_ real."

Sheppard knew it was too soon to expect miracles but he couldn't help himself. "That's helpful."

Beckett snapped, his own nerves worn to a frazzle. "Look, the man has just woken up from what was essentially a dead state. I have no idea how this has happened although it's reasonable to assume it was the preservative fluid of the planet and the extreme cold his body was subjected to. But this is an entirely new physical phenomenon, Colonel, and without being able to directly read his thoughts, I'm afraid we may just have to wait it out. Rodney may become more lucid as time goes by or, I am sorry ta' say, he may _not_. The only thing I _do_ know for sure is that I have no idea at this point."

Sheppard looked suitable contrite. "Sorry, Doc'." He strolled around the room, unable to sit for more than a few minutes at a time without getting restless. He patted Beckett on the shoulder. "Is there anything we _can_ do for him?"

Beckett nodded, having already laid out his plans in his head. "We can isolate him from everyone except for maybe you, me and his closest friends." He glanced at each one of them. "I think interaction with each of you, a little at a time, may spark some recognition and draw him out of...where-ever he is. It's my hope that the more he experiences being here with us should will a catalyst to his own good memories and build in him a desire to return to his old life."

Beckett poured himself this third cup of the dark mystery beverage, adding a generous amount of sugar, and stirring it noisily. "What I'd like to do is get him the professional psychological help that he needs, but the problem is, in order to get that, we'd have to reveal where he is to someone."

Ronan shook his head. "There's no way. Even with Teyla's people protecting him...they'd come arrest all of us. Even if we didn't lose Rodney, we'd never see him again. I don't know about you guys, but I'm not willing to let that happen." It appeared to Ronan that calling in an outsider was no option. He had just gotten his friend back, and the big Satedan wasn't willing to lose him again without a fight.

Teyla spoke. "On that point, Ronan, I think we are all in agreement." And then she offered her friends an alternative. "In this village there is a man with skills in the art of healing. He has certain mental abilities much like mine only stronger. We may be able to link to Rodney and bring him out of...hiding – if that is what he is doing."

Beckett asked "But are you sure he will help us without revealing it to anyone?"

Teyla nodded once. "He is a distant cousin and since Rodney is my brother I know he would assist me if I asked. Plus he is an honorable man. In order to be trusted by the people, he must keep confidences, therefore I do not believe he would ever reveal what we are doing here."

Sheppard asked "What do you think he can do for Rodney?"

Teyla shook her head. "I am not sure, but at the very least if he is able to reveal to us what is going on in Rodney's mind, then we may be better able to help him ourselves."

Though not entirely sanguine about Teyla's metaphysical-sounding interventions, Beckett said. "In the meantime I'll do a complete physical on him, take some blood and other fluids and see if I can't pinpoint a physical reason behind his...disconnectedness." Beckett said to Ronan. "Um, I'll probably need your help to, er, hold him."

Ronan accompanied Beckett to the locked room where they had left Rodney sipping from a cup of broth – which was all Beckett dared give him in such a condition of starvation – and sitting on the floor in a corner, softly talking to himself.

Beckett was privately impressed by how Ronan handled McKay. The big man who had always towered over Rodney both physically and in sheer in-your-face temperament, coaxed him gently from the floor with words spoken too softly for Beckett to hear, and then lifted him in his arms with ease, like he weighed nothing at all, carrying him to the examination table and setting him down just as easily in a seated position.

Beckett nodded his thanks. "Ronan, would ya' mind staying while I take some blood and urine in case he...spooks or something?"

Ronan looked at Rodney. "How are you going to get it?"

Beckett knew he wasn't referring to the blood. Ronan had seen plenty of blood in his lifespan and Beckett knew it didn't bother him. But witnessing a far more private test on a friend, like urine collection, was a different matter. Ronan was an intensely private individual and the last he wanted to do was intrude on the privacy of his friend, even if his friend wasn't exactly all there.

Beckett said. "With the state he's in tha' only way I can get it is from his kidney. He's so dehydrated he's not producing any urine yet, so I'll have ta' give him a mild sedative – I don't dare give him anything stronger in his condition – and then draw some out."

"You need me to hold him down."

Beckett felt bad that it was necessary. "I don't like ta' hurt him any more than I have ta' but even with tha' sedative this _will_ hurt him –so yes."

"Okay."

Rodney did what he was encouraged to do without struggle. He seemed not to be aware or even care what was happening to him. Beckett encouraged his patient to lie down on his stomach and he did so without complaining. He was like a victim of a terrible car accident or a plane crash; alive, walking around but dazed and virtually silent; in a perpetual mental and physical shock.

Becket showed Ronan where on Rodney's back and legs to place his massive hands, then readied his needle. As soon as it pierced the flesh Rodney cried out. It was soft and weak, like the yowl of something newborn, but then he lay silent and still as Beckett finished. "Okay, I got enough."

But Ronan did not think to remove his hands until Beckett gently suggested it. The big man seemed to come back to his full senses then and stood back, his brown eyes darker than usual, black with sorrow for his friend. "I didn't know Rodney could get that thin."

There wasn't a hint of scorn in his words and an understanding Beckett merely nodded. "Thank you, Ronan."

Ronan, not one for words where they weren't needed, nodded and left. Once out in the hall he stopped and paced in one spot, turning circles as though looking for an escape for his emotions. Finally he gave way to the hours of built up frustration and the unaccustomed feelings of powerlessness for what was happening to Rodney by pounding his iron fist into the wall _One! Two! Three!_ times until the plaster gave beneath his fist, cracking in a dozen directions.

Then he shook if off and rejoined the others.

XXX

Beckett stood back. Here his skills were not needed though he remained near-by, as did Ronan, in case Rodney should react violently and possibly injure himself. That in his frail condition he could cause harm to anyone else was not at present a worry.

Teyla was kneeling beside Rodney who was once again seated in his corner, staring at the floor and his own hands as they idly rubbed his feet. All wondered at it. Teyla however, and her friend who had come at her request, placed themselves within touching distance of Rodney. Teyla was the first to reach out a hand and lightly brushed the sleeve of the light blue, thin cotton scrubs Beckett had found and that he and Ronan had dressed Rodney in shortly ago.

Ronan had proved himself the most capable of nursing assistants simply for his strength to lift Rodney up and turn him any which way that Beckett required in order to examine him or, in this case, dress him in something clean.

Teyla spoke softly to him, keeping her voice steady and oh-so kind. "Rodney? Please don't be startled. This man is my friend Farren, and he is here to help us talk to you. Is that all right?"

Rodney continued to rub at his feet, the motions of his hands getting a bit faster, the rubbing slightly more intense.

"Rodney, I am going to touch my forehead to yours, and the Farren is going to touch his mind to my mind so that we can talk to you. Please do not worry. This will not hurt you in any way."

Rubbing, rubbing, more pressure, faster, faster. A tiny whine emanated from deep in Rodney's throat, so softly pitched only Teyla heard it. "Rodney, we are going to start now." Teyla glanced back at Sheppard.

Everyone was standing back near the walls, everyone's nerves walking a crazy high wire. Sheppard nodded.

Teyla leaned in and so gently as to not be believed, touched her forehead to Rodney's.

Rodney's endless rubbing of his feet suddenly stopped for a second, and then he resumed his frantic action, seeming not to notice her at all.

Farren had his own head bowed and was concentrating so hard he began to sweat.

After a moment he spoke. "Rodney has retreated into himself. McKay...is here, too. Both are trapped in a fear of their own making, and of the sleep, and the years of big sky...empty place...hunger, always hunger and thirst..." Farren spoke in a monotone and a jumble of words tumbled out like a small rock slide, a steady serving of what he was seeing through Rodney's tired eyes, a tunnel of memories, out of order but clear enough to comprehend most as he walked through a nearly barren land of contrasts.

Farren/Rodney continued. "Need water again, the shells pile up, the G-goliath's are dead now, so cold, so tired. No one came, no one came but the p-prong?...he was eaten..." Farren suddenly shouted "Ow my back! Ow-ow-ow! Run, Rodney, run! Hurry...ow...ow...it hurts so much...blood...ow...ow..." Tears began to leak from beneath Farren's lids while his voice got louder and his speech frantic. "_Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow_...c-can't _do_...I'm going to die here..._die...die...die...die_...they're n-not coming...tired...I'm so tired...so hungry...so thirsty...why didn't they come...couldn't...they couldn't..."

Suddenly Farren shouted with cruelty: "_Shut-up Rodney!_ You're always talking to yourself...you're nuts...you loser...you goddamn loser! That's why...that's why even _I _can't stand you."

Then in a voice of anguish and despair: "Stop it McKay! _Stop it!_ You're the one who put us here. All brain and no brains! Stupid, selfish, arrogant bastard. An-and John's _my_ friend. Not yours - _mine!"_

"He's only your friend 'cause he has to be,_ moron_. You're useful but secretly he hates you."

"You're wrong. H-h-he l-likes me. Maybe...maybe...maybe even _loves_ me. He's my friend, th-they're _a-all_ my friends. It's all _your_ fault I'm stuck here_. Your fault! Your fault! I-hate-you-I-hate-you-I-hate-you-I-hate-you!"_

Suddenly Teyla screamed and was thrown back from Rodney as though an invisible hand reached out and shoved her away.

Farren passed out and Beckett hurried to check the man's vitals. He said to them all with relief. "He's fine. He just fainted."

Then the room went totally silent.

Except for Rodney who had not moved or spoken, but who still rubbed at his feet with a steadily increasing pressure like a man possessed, as though he were trying to rub the very skin from the flesh, while from deep in his throat came a barely audible whine that remained constant. Like the squealing hiss of a tiny air leak under pressure.

Ronan helped Teyla to her feet. She gathered together her nerves while Beckett insisted on checking her eyes and pulse. He asked her "Are you all right?"

Nodding - "It was an extremely disturbing experience but I am fine." Then looking at Beckett she immediately added "Rodney is in terrible pain."

XXX

Beckett covered him with a blanket and dimmed the lights in the room. Rodney had been sedated and tucked under thick quilts on a mat in a tiny room next door. Beckett and Ronan locked the door from the outside and rejoined the others in the room that had become their own sort of informal meeting room.

Everyone was exhausted and lounged around on the stuffed chairs and lounges. Two soft lights burned in the ceiling. Farren had regained his senses and left and Teyla had food and drink brought in for all. No one had much of an appetite however.

Sheppard forced down a few mouth-full's and then abandoned the attempt. He listened to Beckett with half his thoughts while the other half of his mind went over the words that Farren had screamed at them all, Rodney's terrible words of his own suffering.

Beckett said "He's sleeping for now. We inserted a feeding tube into his stomach ta' get some calories in him. Getting some weight back on him is tha' first order, and once tha' blood and urine tests come back, I might know more about what's causing his pain."

Sheppard asked Teyla "What can you tell us about what you heard...or I guess saw while Farren was, you know, working his magic there?"

Teyla had seen so much. "There is so much. It is difficult to sort through all the images. I fear they may not be in order or even accurate but I will try. If my telling is a little sporadic, please be patient. Not all that I saw made complete sense to me, and my recollections of the events may be disorganised, but please do not interrupt."

She gathered herself a little, closing her eyes to better relate the scenes in her mind without the distraction of the room. For her all she really knew for certain was that the images were real and for the most part fermented with sorrow and pain.

"What I see is a reality of time. Rodney...three years...there...alone. He was alone. He kept count of the days: fifty hours, three-hundred and five days, three years and counting...Big Red in the sky, the Mountain of Rodney M-McKay...no Rodney, just Rodney...The Plant...food...he is eating...he hunts...not always successful, not lately. It tastes sour, odd. But it tastes sweet. There is a duality to him...in his mind and he is injured...more than once – the last injury is serious. It hurts terribly, he is in so much pain...suffering here...always suffering...his feet ache every day, all day; _all_ the time. His hands I think too. Poison perhaps...but he is suffering greatly. John sometimes comes to him."

Teyla's voice registers pleasant surprise and across the room Sheppard straightens up a little, startled by it.

Teyla continued. "And Radek comes and I as well, to comfort I think. He speaks to us...he is now watching himself lose his mind. He is fearful but the fear does not..." she frowned trying to make sense of what she was seeing. "The fear is with Rodney, and it is hatred. Now the sky is darker and it is very cold. McKay see's death and Rodney is... tired...very tired. So tired of pain. He..._misses_ us." Teyla's voice broke slightly. "He...so lonely...painful feet...always rubbing...hating...tired...tired...want to sleep...pain tells him to sleep..."

The images broke apart in her mind and sank out of sight as she came to the end of the malignant snarl of sights, sounds and feelings Farren's link had generated for her. Teyla opened her eyes and took a deep, cleansing breath. She said "I believe Rodney is terrified of us, not because he thinks we will hurt him but because he sees us as only images within that place. We are still illusions to him. That is where we dwell with him, and that is where I believe _he_ _believes_ he still is."

Radek, who had been silent for a while asked rhetorically "I guess the question is - how do we get him out of that place and back here with us?"

XXX

"Via your friends and the Stargate," Becket explained to Teyla and the others, "I made a call to a respected psychopathologist I know. I explained to her Doctor McKay's condition and our observations so far of his behavior and besides ensuring that we give him the proper food and care, all we can do is try and bring Rodney out of his delusional state. She suggested doing our best to interact with him as much as possible, be ourselves, be his friends-" He held up a hand of restraint, "but one at a time of course. We don't want to overwhelm him."

Ronan asked "But won't he just see us a more delusions?"

Teyla explained. "Rodney does not truly see us as delusions, as though we are an invention of his own mind. As far as I was able to determine while in contact with his memories, he is confused about where he is, and so he believes we are hallucinations, no different than those he experienced on the planet. In his mind he is still trapped there, and so he believes that we _cannot_ be real."

Radek asked the group. "So how do we convince him otherwise?"

Teyla wished she had an answer. "I am not sure."

Ronan said. "Maybe we just need to talk to him more."

Beckett was seated on the arm of a chair, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tightly together. No one felt relaxed. "It's worth a try. Who wants to go first?"

Radek ran fingers through his hair. "I can't imagine he'd _want_ to see me. It's my fault that he's going through all this in the first place."

Teyla reassured him "I did not get the sense that Rodney was blaming anyone – other than himself – for some perceived weakness within himself, but merely that he was saddened that we did not find him. I also think he felt at least some satisfaction in his heart that his actions may have saved all of our lives."

Sheppard stood up, ending the debate. "Me. It should be me." He looked at them all. "He's _my_ best friend." It was perhaps the first time he had verbally spoken the words. Sheppard wondered at himself that he had never openly admitted so before. "I should go."

Teyla asked "John – are you sure?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"No one's doubting your wanting ta' help, lad, but tha' last time you spoke ta' him, he disappeared on us." Beckett reminded him. "Maybe I should try first."

"The last time you were near him, you stuck a needle in his back." Ronan said. "For all we know it sent him deeper into himself."

Sheppard listened to them toss it back and forth for minutes and minutes until he saw himself as though in a dream walk over to the door and kick it with his steel toed boot. He had _needed_ to do it without knowing exactly why, only that it was either kick the door or burst from his skin.

But at least it shut them up. "_I'm_ going." He said, ending the debate.

Abashed, Teyla then spoke for the group. "Perhaps John is right. We all love Rodney but John was closest to him."

Memories of drinking beers with him, go fishing, go flying, arguing, apologizing, watching movies and laughing at the ridiculous dialogue, working together to avert the latest disaster, seeing each other get injured, or ill on the job, going on missions both boring and dangerous as hell, and just sitting together out on the walls of Atlantis looking at the ocean. All times he had spent with Rodney. John did things with other people but never as closely nor as often as he had with Rodney McKay. In build, in temperament, in talents, in just about every way, Rodney was his polar opposite, and yet Sheppard could not now imagine anyone else in that niche. Rodney was his best friend, it was true, but he was more than that. He was cherished.

One memory, more stark than all the rest, loomed in his memory. Rodney telling John that he wished to die for his sister. Rodney explaining it, asking for it, insisting on it, and then _begging_ John to give him the go-ahead and let a Wraith scientist drain him to death in order for the Wraith to gain the needed strength so to cure so his sister. So _she_ would live.

John recalled the horribly cold shaking that had erupted in his innards at the idea. Stunned at heart, he had stared back into Rodney's pleading eyes and told him no. He had said "No, I'm sorry, but no." Unflinching and unyielding in his decision, even as his mouth had said it calmly and with military propriety about Rodney being a "valuable member of my team", in his human mind and from the heart-erected foundation of him - the stalwart roots of his very soul – he had screamed _No, Rodney, you may NOT die today! I will not lose you. I refuse your decision to sacrifice yourself. Not even for her. Not for anyone. _

"_I'm_ going." Sheppard repeated so they would not be mistaken, and then asked Beckett "Do you have the key?"

Beckett stood. "I'll open the door for you."

Sheppard, hands on his hips, turned and walked away, muttering something about "sorry" and "dent", leaving with the doctor.

XXX

"Rodney?"

Rodney was awake and even active now, slowly wandering the bare room in shuffling steps. Beckett's pain killers had given him some ease from his painful feet and now Rodney went here and there, not really looking at much except his hands and fingering his clean shirt. It seemed to puzzle him, give him a measure of concern, that it was clean, because he could not explain it.

Except for a simple bed on four feet fastened to the floor, the room was empty. Beckett did not want Rodney injuring himself.

"Rodney?" Sheppard had removed all of his military accoutrements and wore only his fatigues. He was in socks.

On hearing John's voice Rodney stopped his wandering and sat down in one corner again, not looking at John but neither looking away exactly. Rodney was trying to gauge him, Sheppard decide. To his surprise Rodney spoke "John, you're back."

"Yeah." John decided the best course was to sit down opposite Rodney and by talking see where they could get. "Yeah, I thought we should talk for a while if that's all right."

"Sure, sure, talk. We can talk. Talk is good."

The scientist almost sounded like the old Rodney, his voice a ghosting of Rodney's nervous chatter. "Are your feet okay now?"

"Yeah, the stuff works pretty well. I extracted it, remember?"

Sheppard had the weird impression that although Rodney was now looking directly at him, he was not actually being seen, and Rodney was speaking as though John already knew what he was talking about. "Sure. Um, we brought a Puddle Jumper."

Rodney suddenly took in a deep breath as though the news surprised him. Or scared him. "Really?"

"Yup. I could take you to it. Maybe let you fly it. How's that sound?"

Rodney settled back again. "You're just...you're just teasing me, John, like always. John's always teasing." Rodney laughed but the sound was more like an artificial recording of enjoyment. Nothing they exchanged was making it all the way to his eyes.

Sheppard frowned. "What do you...see Rodney?"

Rodney answered like it was John who was crazy. "I see you of course. Who...who do you think? I mean, you always come to see me. Always me, not McKay. He is so _jealous_." Rodney chuckled. "It's great."

For over an hour Sheppard sat and just talked with Rodney. Talked _at_ Rodney, Rodney responding with recorded emotions and words just for himself alone and those only told within his world of heat in a barren landscape under a ripe red sun.

Sheppard finally said goodbye and Rodney waved him away like it was just another visit and nothing special.

Beckett knew it had not been successful when he saw Sheppard's face in the hall.

"I don't know how to get through to him." He said to the others. "I'm his friend but it doesn't seem to be enough. He doesn't believe his own eyes or he does but I guess somehow he still sees me in his world instead of in this one."

Ronan shrugged. "Then _don't_ be yourself."

Sheppard thought for a moment. It was simplistic but "I don't know how to _not _be myself."

Beckett said "I think I get Ronan's meaning. If Rodney's supplying your responses in his mind, then he's supplying only those responses he knows you would normally provide. You've got to step outside yourself somehow, and be a John other than the one he's familiar with."

It made some sort of sense. "Okay but how do I_ do_ that?" He was a soldier not an actor.

Teyla provided the simple solution "Act other than the way you normally would."

Sheppard thought _what – dance? _

Teyla added "After three years alone Rodney must have needed to make up a John of his own, so he controls that John. You must show Rodney that you decide for yourself how to act; that what you say and do does not originate with him. Perhaps the only way to demonstrate that to him is to act in a way contrary to what is usual."

Beckett said "Aye, it's a good idea. It could help shake apart this delusion that he's put himself under."

Sheppard had an idea. Quickly he took Beckett aside and whispered "I have an idea but I need to be alone with him."

Beckett raised his eyes to Ronan and the Satedan joined them. Beckett assured Sheppard "We'll be just outside the door if you need us."

"Um...there might be some yelling involved...or possibly screaming." Sheppard warned and then at their worried faces added "Cut me some slack, guys, I'm not gonna' _hit_ the guy."

Beckett inclined his head agreement. Ronan did the same but warned "You hit him, I hit _you_."

Sheppard said not without humor "Settle down "cave-man". Look, I don't know how long this is gonna' take so just cool your heels out here. But if, you know, hear some crashing around or if I yell for you to come in, then come in."

"Okay." Ronan said.

Sheppard returned to the room where their broken friend waited.

XXX

"Hey buddy." Sheppard said quietly.

Rodney had not moved from his place in the corner. He had his legs tucked up to his chest and his chin resting on them. He reminded Sheppard of a mangy fox, wary of all strangers.

Sheppard approached him slowly. Outside the room it had seemed like a good idea but now he wasn't so sure. However he had nothing else so he went forward.

"Hi, Rodney. I'm just going to sit down beside you, okay? That, um, doesn't scare you does it? 'Cause it's me, John."

Rodney said "No."

Sheppard wasn't positive if he meant no, he couldn't sit down or no he wasn't scared. Sheppard muttered under his breath "Screw it." and took a seat on the floor right next to Rodney.

He waited to see if Rodney was going to spook, but he hardly seemed to notice Sheppard's close proximity.

Sheppard took a breath to prepare himself for the worst, reaching one arm over and around Rodney's upper back, and then carefully, without exerting too much pressure, let it rest across his friend's sharp shoulders.

Rodney didn't react for a few seconds and the turned his head to look at him, frowning suspiciously. "Hey. I don't think you should do that."

Sheppard asked "Why not?"

"Because...because..." It appeared Rodney was having trouble finding a reason. "Um, because John doesn't do that. John doesn't touch me...a-almost never...almost never. He doesn't like to do that. So...so you sh-should stop now."

"No. I'm John and I want to touch my best friend." He knew he was risking Rodney having some sort of melt-down but he had to do this all the way or not at all. Half-way would tell them nothing. Sheppard swivelled on his backside and put his other arm around Rodney so his arms were now in the position of a hug. He was now hugging Rodney. It was a loose one, but it was definitely a hug.

Rodney shifted his own position now, trying to sidle away, but Sheppard linked his hands together and prevented him from going more than an inch or two. "You should s-stop, John doesn't like that. Please...please stop."

"No Rodney. _I_ decide if I like to touch you or not. _I'm_ John and I've decided I want to hug my best friend."

Rodney began to struggle, trying to push him away with wasted muscles. "Please...please...I don't understand why you won't_ stop_ that. John would stop if I asked him to."

"The John you've known for the last three years would never have hugged you either, but I'm the real John and I am going to hug you whether you like it or not, Rodney."

Rodney stopped struggling and stared at him nose to nose. Sheppard could see the stubborn anger building behind the baby blues, like thunder clouds of charcoal grey in a clear sky that signal the start of something unpleasant, and it was a little bit frightening.

Rodney of three years ago could have kicked John's ass all over the planet if he'd had the mind, and the combat training, to do so. Because despite his shorter stature and other than the handful of extra fat on his frame, in sheer muscle bulk Rodney out-weighed him by thirty pounds at least. He was a man who spent many hours sitting down by necessity of his chosen career. However in creating Rodney the good Lord had also granted him a square strong frame upon which he had hung some natural-born thick muscle. Rodney's legs alone were something to be envied. Thighs that Rodney had been given by design, John wistfully sought by pumping iron every day.

And it seemed that behind Rodney's eyes was a man suddenly intent on ass-kicking. Sheppard just pulled him in as tightly as he dared and linked his fingers together when the man suddenly erupted in a flailing of arms and legs, bucking his hips and trying to dislodge the uninvited intruder who had folded his false self into the sorted, comfortable desert of his delusion.

Sheppard however held on as though both their lives depended on it. It was a good thing Rodney was weak with hunger and sickness (with the added benefit that at his heart he was not a violent man), because if he had not been so frail, Sheppard knew he would already be across the room in an undignified heap against the far wall.

'Rodney! Stop. I'm John and I'm _not_ letting you go!" Rodney was thus far unrelenting in his struggle to get free. "I don't care how long we have to do this, buddy, but tough shit! You're stuck with the real me."

For many minutes Rodney fought the fleshly John and screamed for John's shadow self who did nothing unexpected like hold him tight against his will, or talk in his ear when he wasn't supposed to. Rodney fought until he was breathless and his heart raced, until he suddenly stopped altogether and hung loose in John's arms like a ragdoll, spent to his core with fighting.

John did not let his arms drop until he knew for certain Rodney was finished. "You all done now? Can we stop fighting and be friends again?"

Rodney lifted his head and on a rubbery neck, looked Sheppard in the eye, and John gasped at the sight of Rodney staring at him with recognition. Out of the glazed look from a moment before clarity was shining, and from the sickly mute of a wasteland, the mouth of the reborn spoke. "John? Jesus...John...is that really you?"

The words from his lips were as frail as he was, but they spoke with surety. "You're really here, aren't you? And-" Rodney felt his chest and saw that his hands and feet freely existing in a space that was not a rock cave or a desert floor. Above were only ceiling lights and not a burnt sun. "...I'm-I'm really here, too, aren't I?"

John, arms still wrapped around his friend, assured him "Yes, Rodney. You really are." And what a good thing this was. Sheppard could feel his own breath bouncing off Rodney's sallow cheek and coming back to fall upon his own. He was _that_ close to him, and it was a fine, fine place to be.

Rodney rubbed one hand across his own cheek to see if his face was as much there as the rest of him. And then John, to keep his friend in the here and now, reached out one hand and did the same to the other. "You are really home now, Rodney. And I've got you, buddy, I've got you."

For Sheppard it was as difficult to believe as it was for his friend. And he did not move from the floor or relinquish his hold on him. Not for a minute. He sat there with Doctor Rodney McKay, his hands around him, keeping him as close to himself as was possible and it did not feel the least bit un-macho or uncomfortable upon his feelings in any way. It seemed normal and right and the very thing he should have done other times and wanted to do now. He felt a fool for ever shunning the simple gestures of touch and physical comfort for someone who needed it –whoever they were.

But especially for this man, for his friend who had undergone such a barrenness of life for so long, and who had been so walled off from human touch that he had been unwilling to come out of the isolation without a promise of something more. Well now Rodney McKay had something more and he would always have it as far as Sheppard could ever assure it. "I've got you, buddy. You're home, you're home and you're safe with me, pal."

John pressed his own robust cheek to Rodney's underfed one and stayed by him, kept him there on the floor for many more minutes. It was not yet time to share him with the others. John decided. He was not yet willing to, not quite yet. "You're safe, Rodney, you're back."

_And here you will damn well stay!_

XXX Part IX soon.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Sometime...Somehow... Part IX**_

_Uh, geek-speak again: computers, nanites, attoseconds and all that jazz. I read stuff and adapt what I read. A lighter chapter, full of good ol' Rodney snark..._

_XXXXXXXXX_

"A botanist from Teyla's colony here was good enough ta' help me run the labs, and we found tha' remnants of two substances in his blood and urine." Beckett said.

The group were once more back in their tiny meeting room, taking some drink and waiting for Beckett to get to the details on McKay's condition. As places to meet and discuss Rodney and their own futures it was as good a room as any. Plus it had fine light. The afternoon sun streamed in through the open shutters, shining a warm yellow glow into the dark corners of their situation.

Sheppard wondered what else could possibly be thrown at Rodney at this late date. "What kind of "substances"?"

"As far as I can tell, both act on the central nervous system, one has properties similar to dimethyl serotonin, that's a hallucinogen and a mild anesthetic which could partly account for his confusion when he regained consciousness. The other is similar in some of its properties to the poison produced by dinoflagellates – plankton and the sea creatures that feed on it. This is the substance that is most likely causing his pain.

"Now most of tha' toxin has probably broken down in his system but as I said there are lingering symptoms that I believe are still acting on the extremities of his body, his hands and feet for tha' most part; and I think it's likely why he's in so much pain." Beckett took a needed breath "Ironically, both substances appear to be derived from tha' same organism."

"So one thing causes pain and the other relieves it." Radek said. "Lucky."

Sheppard said with barely disguised sarcasm. "Yeah, I'll bet he feels _real_ lucky. How long do you think it'll last doc'?"

Beckett shook his head. "I really can't say, but it is still present in his nervous system, and I hate ta' tell you that I see no reason why this won't cause him pain for many years to come unless we can devise a way ta' neutralize it. I can give him a regular course of pain relievers but there's not much more I can do at this point until we can study it further. We really need ta' bring in a toxicologist. But for now I'm afraid there's little more I can for him."

Sheppard set his jaw against all things unfair and callous. "So what you're saying is Rodney could be in pain for the rest of his _life_?"

Beckett shook his head. "I don't know John. I'm sure we can devise a treatment once we understand it but...I wish I could more but right now..." Beckett lifted one useless shoulder in defeat.

Ronan voiced the most relevant question and said it in his plain Satedan fashion "Now that Rodney's not in a coma anymore, what do we do with him?" Ronan looked around at his friends and teammates. "I mean, we can't take him back to Atlantis."

Teyla asked Beckett "Is Rodney sleeping?"

"No, he's awake now. I've removed his feeding tube and you'll be glad ta' know he complained the whole time. I left him eating from a bowl of puréed stew your friend tha' cook made up, Teyla. It's highly nutritious and calorie rich so it's a good start ta' his recovery. I'm keeping him off all solids for at least another day until I'm confident his digestion can take it and you should have heard him moaning on and on about _that_."

Sheppard perked up. As news events had lately gone it was fantastic. "So he's complaining?" It was the best thing they had heard all week.

Beckett nodded. "Plus he called me an idiot for suggesting that he stay in bed a while longer." The insult had been glorious to his ears.

Teyla said "Rodney is welcome to stay here until he has recovered. And, as far as I and my people are concerned, he is welcome to live here as long as he likes. Rodney has expertise in many fields of study and I am sure his input would be invaluable to the colony leaders."

Sheppard said "That's very generous of them but Rodney may not want to stay here." Sheppard had to work to keep the edge off his voice. As far as Sheppard was concerned Sheppard wanted Rodney where ever Sheppard ended up, if at all possible. "Eventually he'll probably want to return to Earth to see his sister."

Zelenka asked. "Any word from her yet?"

Sheppard shook his head. "No. And it's damn weird."

Ronan said "Well, the only news out there is that McKay's _body_ was found. Nobody but us knows he's alive yet. Plus I thought he was a fugitive. I mean Zelenka and Colonel Sheppard basically stole him – right?" Ronan reminded them.

"When he was...when we _thought_ he was dead, that was true; we were stealing what the scientific community would call an "archeological _find_"," Zelenka explained, "but he's, well, alive now. Once we tell them, they won't be able to touch him."

Teyla nodded. "Yes, no one may claim a right of property on a living person. No one has any rights regarding Doctor McKay except Doctor McKay."

Beckett said "Be all of that as it may, he's not ready ta' travel anywhere yet."

"I may have a solution."

All heads turned to see Elizabeth Weir standing at the door, and Sheppard, once his feet got over their surprise and could move, greeted her first. "Elizabeth?" It felt ridiculously good to see her. "When did you get here?"

She removed her coat, one from her personal wardrobe. Nothing she wore was Stargate issue now. "Just now." She gave each of them a warm smile. "It's...comforting, to see you all, and all in one place again."

Moving like a cat suddenly Ronan lifted her up in his arms and hugged her tightly, and then set her back on her own feet. Smiling a bit shyly, Elizabeth's fare complexion turned pink. "Ah, well –_ahem_ - it's good to see you too, Ronan." She tucked one stray lock of hair behind her ear to re-gather her dignity and then looked in turn at each member of the group of people who had become to her more than colleagues. They were like her _children_ in a way. She felt responsible for them, she worried over them and, as she looked at each of their faces that she had missed so much, she found that she even loved them. It was easy to think so. And she was immensely proud of all of them and the work they had done together. "_All_ of you."

Teyla said "You are with family, Elizabeth. Welcome home."

XXX

After more greetings and words of catching-up were exchanged, Elizabeth drew Sheppard aside and spoke into his ear. "John, I have some news that is going to be very bad for Rodney, and other news that is very good for you and Radek." Elizabeth spoke in a hushed tone.

He encouraged her to step into the hallway and closed the door behind them, walking beside her to the end where it turned a corner, leading to a large kitchen. "How about the good news first." He suggested.

"Colonel Carter is arguing your case for you before the Stargate Military Council underlining to them that you did not leave the Terra Cottas II until it was safe, and that you left the Daedulus in the hands of your Second-in-Command which is proper procedure, and from what she has told me so far from their reactions despite the theft of what the Science Expedition leaders called "A great historical discovery", it doesn't look like you'll be going to jail."

"That is good news."

"Although you will most probably be disciplined somehow."

"Less good, but better than I expected."

"And the bad news: Rodney's sister was killed in a car crash two months ago. That's why we've had no response to our attempts to contact her. It took this long for the Military to track down the husband because he went to some sort of retreat to cope. The daughter is with his parents." She said with irony "Welcome back to the world, Rodney."

Sheppard sighed heavily and mentally flipped the bird to Fate. "Um, let's keep this to ourselves for now. I'm not sure Rodney could handle the shock. He's just _barely_ out of the woods as it is." Sheppard then looked amused. "A "great historical discovery" huh?" He said. "Let's not tell Rodney that one. He has a big enough ego."

"Where is he? Can I see him?"

"Yeah, I'm sure he'd be glad to see you. This way to Rip-Van-Rodney." Sheppard showed her to the room which was located two doors down from their informal meeting room. He himself had not gone in for a heart to heart since Rodney had fully awakened. He planned on it just as soon as he could find the right words to say that they had stopped looking for him. "Look - try not to be shocked or at least try not to _show_ him you are. I mean he's still Rodney and all but," Sheppard made a small grimace, "just a whole lot _thinner_. At least he is until Beckett and Teyla's completely spoiling him fatten him up again."

With shaded humor "You don't think he should be spoiled?" she asked.

"Not at all, actually it's kinda' fun." He admitted. "Rodney always was a pushover for food. If you need anything just knock on the wall."

As she entered his small room her hands started shaking and her stomach filled with butterflies. How does one say "Congratulations on being alive again."? His shocking thinness shook her resolve but only for a few seconds and then she set her heart upon who he was, a person who had been loved, lost, missed in a most terrible way, and now brought home again to them, and suddenly nothing else mattered.

Rodney was sitting up in bed and greedily swallowing down the remnants of a bowl of thick soup but on seeing her, and recognising her immediately, his eyes lit up and he sputtered, sending a few drops down his stubble-ed chin. "Elizabeth, you're...um, I mean did they - you're _here_."

As weak as his voice sounded she was delighted that he also sounded like Rodney McKay. Biting her lip to keep back the tears she said softly "Rodney, are you kidding?" As soon as Rodney set aside his bowl and wiped his mouth on his sleeve Elizabeth perched on the edge of his bed and drew him into a brief hug. "Of _course_ I would come. I came as soon as I could get away."

"Oh." He twisted a claw-like hand near his temple. "Oh, well, they don't tell me much right now, my head's not on all the way straight yet – apparently. They're keeping me locked up in here for fear I'll stub a toe, and Beckett won't let me eat anything solid yet - plus he keeps poking and prodding me like I was a mutton rare roast smothered in haggis - I mean I could _kill_ him."

She laughed softly, wanting to say that he looked well but it would be too close to the edge of a lie. "They haven't filled me completely in either on...what happened to you." She said and then for a moment allowed herself the luxury of looking over his face, trying to remember the softer, rounder features of the Rodney of three and a half years ago, before fate had taken a swing at him, and at them all.

His hair was shorter than he would normally have worn it – she supposed that Beckett had had a hand in that – and his cheeks hollow but he still looked like Rodney. His eyes were as big and as blue as Robin eggs, the expression in them at the moment quizzical, as though he were studying something never before encountered. She supposed he was contemplating himself, and how he had gone into a nine thousand year sleep and had miraculously been woken up again.

And despite the thinness he looked somehow _younger_ than she remembered. But beneath it all lay an undercurrent of fear and uncertainty, as though he had no idea how to handle being alive again. It was an element that made him seem new to it all, to life and all experience. It also made him seem frighteningly small and vulnerable. So much so that suddenly she was a little afraid for him as well.

With a gentle tease "Well, do I pass inspection?" He asked.

Elizabeth leaned forward and took him in her arms again, this time adding a kiss on his grizzled cheek. Beckett ought to have someone do a good and proper shave on him, she thought, though the shadowed look had always suited him well. "We missed you so much, Rodney. You have no idea." And she would never be able to explain it to him either. Would he believe her even if she did?

"So Beckett says, but I'd feel better if I could eat some real food." He stared at her face and said shyly "I'm a wreck but look at you, just as pretty as ever."

As she talked Elizabeth took his hand, needing the reassurance that he was not a dream. His flesh was warm under her fingers and she took comfort in it. "It is so good to see you. I mean it's been weird now that everyone's off doing something new, but now here we all are again."

His knowledge still incomplete, his expression remained open and innocent when he asked "Again? What do you mean?"

"Well, you know, after you disappeared and then the Iratus bugs came and then the loss of Atlantis -"

"What?" His eyes blinked once, then twice and his open and trusting face switched to one of confusion. Y-you...the_ what_?" He asked, his voice shaking just a little, his expressive eyes wider, more fearful. "The...the _what_ about Atlantis?"

The reflex that comes when two connections are suddenly severed from each other caused her to let go of his hand. Elizabeth leaned back a little, suddenly horrified. "Oh my God, has no one told you..?" She felt like an idiot. She should have asked someone, but she had been so anxious to see him alive that she hadn't connected the dots and thought to _ask_. "Oh Rodney, I'm so sorry to be the one to have to tell you this but...we lost Atlantis."

Rodney looked stunned. Elizabeth could have kicked herself.

"What do you mean...I-I _saved_ Atlantis. I saved _everyone_." He was looking not at her but inward, as though he was trying to find the error. "Didn't I? I mean, I spent three years in _hell_, so I better have saved it. Unless something went _wrong_? I...was...did Atlantis...did something go _wrong_? Something I forgot or...or maybe something that Zelenka a-and I didn-?"

Elizabeth shook her head vigorously. "No, no, Rodney it was nothing you did or didn't do, believe me, you saved us. You did. _We_ lost Atlantis. _We_ did, to the Replicators. In a nut shell they sent nanite-enhanced Iratus bugs to the city and they overwhelmed it. We had to abandon and sink her so the Replicators couldn't move in and take control."

She saw it then, in his eyes, the sick realization that although he had saved them, he had lost his home. Their home was gone. But Rodney, although he physically looked like a ghost of his former self, was still Rodney McKay the genius and he threw back the covers. "Well, what are we still doing _here_?" He stood up and Elizabeth stood up right alongside him and it was a good thing, too, because he swayed and nearly fell over.

"Rodney. Please sit down."

But he was up and he was Rodney McKay and there was no way he was going to be dissuaded. "No, no, no, no, we have to get back there. Iratus bugs – _nanite_-enhanced - are you _sure_? Wow, that's smart of them. Really, that's very, very smart - where are my clothes?" He looked around the floor as though expecting to find them lying in a pile just like in his old quarters.

Elizabeth swiftly went and knocked on the wall as Rodney abandoned his search for some proper daywear, instead attempting a stumbling navigation in the general direction of the door. "Come on, Elizabeth. We can't waste anymore time."

"Rodney, what are you going to do – just hang around on the surface of the ocean until you think of something?" She tried reason. "The city is under six hundred feet of ocean not to mention that you're _sick."_

"Well, I admit I'm not up to par but Carson's soup sure is helping. I feel way better than I did an hour ago – I promise." He tried to push passed her, lost his precarious balance and fell on his knees. Just then the door opened and Sheppard and Ronan entered followed by Beckett. With so any people in the room crowded around the patient, there was hardly room to stand up.

Two tree-limb thick arms belonging to Ronan set Rodney back on his feet with one easy scoop.

Sheppard demanded "Where do you think you're going?" While Beckett took Rodney's elbow and started guiding him back to his bed.

But Rodney had no eyes for anyone but Sheppard. "Why didn't you tell me Atlantis was lost?" He asked. "Why would you keep that from me?"

Sheppard realised their heart to heart was about to occur. "We didn't think the shock would be good for you, Rodney, I mean you just back from the _dead_ and all."

Rodney, helpless to resist Beckett's, and then also Ronan's hands that demanded if not his mental obedience, then his physical, was coaxed to sit back down on the thin mattress. "I had a right to know." Rodney accused. "You should have told me right away."

Beckett soothed "Settle down, Rodney, and maybe the Colonel can fill you in." Beckett threw Sheppard a look that said _May as well have that talk now huh? _and then warned Rodney "Get out of that bed again and I'll be forced to sedate you."

Like the turning of the tides, some of Rodney's old snark was surging back. "Oh, yeah? You and what army?"

Ronan bent over and offered him a dead-level glare of his dark brown eyes straight into Rodney's powder-blue's. "_Me_, that's who."

Rodney lifted his chin in a pathetic show of defiance but when Ronan did not back down, declined to challenge the large man any further, saying in a small voice that still managed a respectable measure of snipe "_Fine."_

Sheppard knew Ronan would make good on his word and help Beckett force Rodney to rest whether he wanted to or not, and Rodney knew it too. He waited for the others to vacate and then settled at the other end of the bed. "Look, it was my call whether to tell you or not. We were _going_ to tell you by the way, we just wanted to wait until you were stronger."

Rodney, though looking far from it, said "I'm fine-I'm-fine-just tell me what the hell _happened_. I want to know everything that happened after I went through the worm hole, every detail, and don't you dare leave anything out 'cause I'll know."

Sheppard struggled over whether to snark right back at his old friend, if just for the sheer joy of it, or to discard his military macho reserve and smother Rodney in a man-sized hug until the stuffing came out. After a moment of indecision he settled on his own brand of flippant affection "Yeah, it's good to see you _too_, Rodney." Then Sheppard began a long and detailed history of the world as it was sans Rodney McKay. "So, here's what happened..."

XXX

"So no poisons, pesticides, toxic spray - none of it has made a dent?"

Sheppard shook his head no. "Not for more than a few minutes and the damn things regroup. Part of the reason we finally decided to sink her was to keep the things contained as best as possible inside Atlantis, and to keep the Replicators out, until we can figure something out."

"How long has she been down there?" Both used the feminine to describe their beloved ancient city. It was their home, it had protected them, provided a doorway to the universe, and showed them a giant chunk of how their ancestors had once lived, fought and died. Atlantis was a friend.

"Over a year now." At McKay's fallen face Sheppard misinterpreted his expression and defended the decision. "We had no choice, Rodney; we had to protect her from the Replicators."

"It's not that but, I mean the bugs had already invaded – Replicator bugs – what difference did it make at that point if the Replicators came?"

"I suppose none, but Elizabeth and I decided...well, _fuck 'em_."

Rodney had to concede "Well, I'm with you on that...but there must be a way, there _has_ to be a way. I mean this is just a problem and problems can be worked out...you just have to _think_..." Rodney squeezed his eyes shut, the whispered words still falling from his lips "Come on, Rodney, think-think-think..."

Sheppard could see the little cogs and wheels turning 'round and 'round, Rodney's magnificent brain firing up the engines to produce brilliance.

Sheppard decided he was right when Rodney kept talking aloud to himself, ticking off their failures and why. "An EM pulse didn't do it because the bugs could learn and regroup faster and faster with each attempt. The poisons didn't work on the Iratus bio-cells because the nanites simply rebuilt or duplicated any cell that had been damaged by the toxins. We can drown the bugs but not the eggs, and the drowned bugs just come back to life after a while anyway..."

Sheppard held his breath. This was McKay, and he could out-think almost anything, at least that's what Sheppard had come to believe over the years of Rodney's repeated strokes of genius in saving their lives, or saving the city, or both. The scientist had made some mistakes (occasionally gi-normously bad mistakes), but those were the rare exceptions. _Come on Rodney, think of something we haven't._

"Did you try both methods simultaneously?"

Sheppard deliberately didn't hide his disappointment. "Yes, but the result was the same. No poisons from Earth, no matter how deadly, or from anywhere else for that matter, had enough of an effect even with an EM pulse alongside. The nanites are too fast now, too evolved." Then he had to say it, all the better to goad Rodney into the light. "Come on, Rodney, you _have_ to be thinking of something we didn't."

Exasperated "Give me a break, willya? I just woke up from a nine thousand year _sleep _for crying out loud. Right now my brain's working at only half mast, thank you very much."

But Sheppard waited and watched as Rodney's eyes (those illuminated, ingenuous, bewitching, sometimes raving mad,_ exquisite_ eyes), moved back and forth as though he were reading an inner scroll of knowledge spitting out massive amounts of possibilities, a kaleidoscope of concepts both weird and wonderful, things of which only he could comprehend. Sheppard was certain the truth of it was not far off.

Rodney was about to speak and then didn't, leaving his mouth hanging open an inch but saying nothing. Sheppard leaned in a bit, waiting patiently for the fantastic but do-able plan that had to be teetering on the tip of Rodney's pink tongue.

Sheppard almost jumped when suddenly Rodney turned to him, painfully latched onto his left knee with one clawed hand and asked in earnest "John, where's my clothes?"

"What...your clothes? Which..._what_ clothes?"

Rodney almost rolled his eyes and it gave John a tiny thrill. _God!_ how he had missed that.

"The clothes I was wearing when you thawed me out."

"Oh." Sheppard wondered if Rodney was backsliding into wacky-land. "Oh, _those_ clothes. Uh, I'm not sure. Why don't we ask Zelenka?"

When Rodney got up to join Sheppard for the short walk next door Sheppard stuck out a stern finger at him. "_You_ are staying here – and get back in bed! _I'll_ bring the others."

Now Rodney really did roll his eyes and Sheppard had to press his lips together tightly to stop himself from smiling like a fool. "I'll be back in a minute."

Rodney threw him a mocking salute and plopped on his back full length on the covers, muttering "Sheesh! Once an army guy, _always_ an army guy."

XXX

Zelenka dug out the remnants of Rodney's clothing which they had cut off of his "dead" body and Rodney fished through the pockets until he found what he was looking for. Holding it up to five pairs of eyes like a trophy, he said "This is it."

Sheppard said it for them all "It's a stick."

Rodney looked at his friend as though his IQ had just dropped about a hundred points. "It's not just a stick, it's a hollow stick – a root actually - and what's inside just might do what your other poisons could not."

Beckett asked "Is that from...?"

Rodney explained "Gobi Prime, yes. It's the poison of the Giant Goliath beetle –which I named by the way - the one that nearly killed me. If all the poisons from Earth and the known worlds aren't having an effect, then we need one from an alien world - right? Synthesize a large enough amount of _this_ and introducing it into an entirely flooded Atlantis might just do it. As long as we open every corridor and compartment in Atlantis to ocean water and flood them all to the last square meter we might be able to knock them all out at once. The poisoned sea water can be contained within the shield and once the bugs are dead, siphoned out by Daedulus by beaming it into space."

"Mmm Rodney, what about the nanites?" Radek asked softly.

Rodney had not noticed his former colleague seated in one corner trying to look inconspicuous, but now he did. "Radek...uh, yeah,...um, yes, I-I was thinking about that and if we write an attosecond long program and feed it into the nanite matrix within a total time unit of, say, a hundred attoseconds long, it should confuse them so much they'll simply be unable to function."

Sheppard asked "Sounds...interesting but what exactly is an attosecond?"

Radek filled them all in. "It's a time period equal to one quintillionth of a second. Basically an attosecond is to a second what a second is to thirty-one-point-seventy-one billion years," He explained. "That's _twice_ the age of the universe."

Rodney added "Right." He smugly looked around the room at their faces as though he had just explained all the important parts. At their blank faces, he frowned and continued "The program ought to be relatively simple to write: then all we have to do is command the Yes/No sequence to insert itself in between each attosecond within the time-unit of the nanites and this should cause them to turn themselves off and on in a continuous loop. It'd be the same as telling a person to go _and_ stay at the _same time_; it's an impossible command to obey so he couldn't move. He'd literally freeze in place, unable to function." Rodney finished with a flourish of a waving hand like he was a magician on stage. "_And_ viola' - the nanites will freeze in place."

Rodney looked upon his little hollow reed, and his own idea, with pride. "Best of all, this way all we have to clean up is some residual Iratus bug carcases and the egg nests. No trillions of tiny nanites to sweep up – imagine the logistics of that? Suppose we _missed_ a few?"

Beckett said. "What'll you and Doctor Zelenka need in order to set this all up?"

Rodney pursed his lips, and then shrugged as though it were an easy list. "I guess a computer with the biggest hard drive on Earth plus a holographic memory, about a week's work in a lab somewhere and – oh, one of the Iratus bugs."

With irony Sheppard asked "Oh, is _that_ all?" and then enlightened his friend. "Rodney, we can't get one of the Iratus bugs, they're all in Atlantis and Atlantis is at the bottom of the sea."

Rodney looked at Sheppard. "Well, didn't you say Carson had some?" then at Carson "Didn't you examine one of them?"

Beckett nodded. "Several, but that was over a year ago. The Iratus are sure to have evolved even more by now. We'd need a new one, wouldn't we, lad?" Beckett often used the Scandinavian/Celtic word to describe any fellow even a few years younger than himself though Rodney, in this instance, was now a good ten years his junior, at least in appearance.

Rodney thought about it. "Probably a good idea –yes."

Sheppard said "Well then I guess we'd better go get one."

Ronan crossed his arms, reminding his former leader "Teams have tried – and failed. The bugs are impossible to snag out of the air or the water. They fly and swim so fast it's hard to even see them."

Zelenka added "And because they're basically a bio-Replicator half-breed they're now immune to the energy field of the transporter, so we can't even beam them out."

Sheppard was not one to be dissuaded so quickly though. "We'll just have to do better somehow."

"Let me try." Rodney said.

Sheppard personally vetoed the idea before it even had a chance to leave the gate. "Absolutely not."

Rodney seemed genuinely surprised. "Why not?"

"Because you're ill." Beckett answered for the both of them.

"I'm not ill. I may not be as strong as I used to be but – John how long will it take for us to get to Atlantis?"

Sheppard put his hands on his hips in his habitual power-stance because he could see the old-slow stoke of Rodney McKay stubbornness asserting itself and burning hotter with every passing minute. "Well, if we're not all in _jail_, a few days but that doesn't matter because you're _NOT. GOING."_

"John, I _have_ to go."

Sheppard prepared himself for the long list of reasons he knew Rodney was about to throw at him. The most frustrating part was the damn scientist was probably right about all of it.

Rodney was speaking true to form. "I need to see the condition of Atlantis and the level of infestation. I need to run scans and determine which parts of the city are flooded and which aren't. I need to know if the structure is intact, if the shield generator is operational or not, and if it isn't, whether can I make it operational, not to mention I need to see the bugs in action – if you want me to devise a program that'll address all aspects of the damn things, well then you'd better not leave me behind."

Ronan was on Sheppard's side. "It's too dangerous McKay. _We_ can get the bugs."

Rodney was not one to back down when he knew he was right, not even to the intimidating Satedan. "Oh, right, because in that regard you've all done so _well_ until now!"

"Look Rodney, this is no walk in the park you're talking about." Sheppard reminded him. "You just came back to life. You're in no condition to take on something like this."

Then Rodney did what Sheppard hated most. The infuriating bastard used persuasive reasoning. "Look, you just admitted that no one has been able to catch one of these newest versions of the bugs, so what do you have to lose by taking me with you and letting me try to figure out a way to _do_ that?"

Sheppard crossed his arms and sighed, his eyes studying the tops of his boots. _**You**__, for one _he thought. But maybe Rodney was right. Re-taking Atlantis, one last crazy attempt by the world's craziest magician scientist, might be worth the risk. He asked Beckett "If he eats properly and _stays in bed and rests_ for the next few days," Sheppard stared directly at Rodney while he said the previous few words, "will he be strong enough to travel? And, you know_,_ go under water in a submersible _suit_ and all that?"

Beckett could see his medical opinion was about to take a back seat to the need for Rodney to try and save Atlantis once again. "I'll make a few shots of pain killer for you to take with you in case he has trouble."

Rodney protested the third person discussion of his health. "Hey, I'm _right here_."

Beckett said to Rodney "If you rest and eat everything I provide and do everything I say for the next three days, and I mean _everything_, then I'll grant you temporary medical leave to do this insane thing." Then to Sheppard and Ronan "All three of you better go then, in case something happens to him."

"Stop talking about me like I'm not in the room." Rodney barked, and then held up the hollow reed in his hand. "Now, if you're all finished publically humiliating me, then I'd like to get back to our discussion of this." Carefully Rodney pinched his index and thumb together to untie the wet length of twisted reed around one end when he gasped and drew his hand back like he'd been stung.

Some of his bravado vanished as Teyla, recalling his level of pain during her connection with Rodney and so being the first to grasp what was happening, stepped forward and took the tube gently from his hand. "Let me help you, Rodney."

He relinquished it as he massaged one hand with the other. His previously triumphant face grimaced in pain as the nerve endings at the tips of his fingers began their round of deep burning aches.

Beckett had a morphine shot prepared and hidden away in his pocket for the expected event. He sat down next to the scientist and took his arm, carefully rolling up the sleeve. Rodney did not protest when Beckett drove the sweet chemical relief home. Beckett knew Rodney's feet would also be hurting again and it was satisfying to see the lines that the sudden pain had etched on his features smooth out and disappear. "Better?"

Rodney nodded but did not look at any of the others in the room, and Beckett at once recognised the secret shame that many patients felt toward their own weakness. But the continually returning pain was a reality that Rodney would have to learn to accept no matter how ambitious his aims. Not only would he need to learn to live with the discomfort itself, but at the limitations its crippling effects would no doubt place upon his new-found life.

"Rodney," Beckett urged softly for only his ears. "I think you ought to get some more sleep now, don't you?"

Rodney nodded and it was clear he was grateful the doctor was offering him a way out without having to admit that the pain, however partially masked by the morphine, was swiftly eating up the remainder of his meagre supply of energy. As he stood he could hardly keep his eyes open. "Yeah, yeah, sure. I guess so."

Rodney let Ronan walk him to his room but protested when the towering Satedan tried to pull his blankets up for him. "I'm perfectly capable of tucking myself in."

Ronan ignored the words and simply watched his friend for a minute as Rodney rolled onto his side and let out a long sigh. Even that small gesture sounded spent. Ronan turned to leave when he heard a softly spoken "thanks" arise from out of the tangle of blankets.

Ronan knew just a few words - simple true words - were all that was needed from him to the smaller man, words he had not yet had the chance to speak "Glad you're home Rodney."

XXX

Part X soon.


	10. Chapter 10

_**Sometime...Somehow... Part X**_

_Sorry I killed off Jennie but her being alive would interfere with things I have in mind for Rodney. And those few ep's I've seen where one member goes home, rides around in a Toyota wearing a suit n' tie or an old-man sweater for this or that (usually poorly done), plot drives me bonkers! If it ain't about the team and protecting Atlantis from their enemies (or something similar), it aint' Stargate! _

_No real slash in here but I thought I'd play around with a bit of what could be read as slashy dialogue. (But it's mostly Sheppard fucking with Rodney's head – mostly!)._

_XXXXXX_

"You realise we're going to need permission from IOA to do this, right?" Weir reminded Sheppard who, unable to keep the worry out of his eyes, would every-so-often glance across the room to the walls that separated their little meeting room with the one where Rodney was getting some desperately needed sleep. "Without their permission we won't be allowed anywhere near Atlantis."

Sheppard nodded. "Then we'll have to convince them."

Weir crossed her arms. "Leave that to me. I can take Rodney's idea to Samantha Carter personally. _I_ won't get arrested if I show my face at the SGC."

Sheppard nodded. "Right. Thanks Elizabeth. Let us know as soon as you can."

She laid one hand on his forearm. "Take care of him, okay?"

Eyes drifting to the wall where beyond was the room that contained a sleeping Rodney, re-born just five days ago, he assured her "Trust me - nothing's going to happen to him." _Ever again._

XXX

Sheppard knew this was insane. Ronan knew it, too.

Rodney, however was happily nattering a string of instructions and reminders to them both as two of Sheppard's military drones were helping the three of them into their rotary-jointed aluminum/titanium-metal submersible suits with the inch thick glass port on the head-pieces. The scientist was almost ready to walk around in a drowned Atlantis at the bottom of the sea. Rodney, looking healthier but still far thinner than he should be, didn't seem to note that it was insane at all which, Sheppard decided, made him clearly insane.

Trying to divert his own attention off the risk Rodney was taking and back to their objectives he said "These suits are rated to a thousand meters so we shouldn't have any problems locating an Iratus bug."

Ronan, his hair tied back to keep it out of his face, was already encased in the suit's bulbous hulls complete with helmet. He had to switch on his suit's communicator to speak. "I still don't see how we're going to get one of them, especially wearing these things." The suits protected them from the pressure at the depths they were diving to and kept them alive but moving was slow and laborious.

Rodney, now locked in and sealed in his own suit, answered through the communicator. "I'll figure it out once we get down there." He picked up the water-sealed container that's sole purpose was to transport one Iratus bug back to the surface. "What are we waiting for?"

Ronan and Sheppard exchanged glances from behind their view portals, and then Sheppard called the Daedulus "Ready for transport."

The dry safety of the Daedulus's transporter platform was replaced by the murky, watery world of a flooded chamber. Sheppard activated his suit flood light, and Ronan and McKay did the same. They now had a better view of where they were.

Rodney reported. "I think this is the hallway outside the main tower."

Sheppard asked "Is that where the bugs are?"

Rodney shook his head inside his helmet. His head moved but the helmet didn't.

Sheppard asked again "Then where do we go?"

Rodney was already checking his little scanning unit that he'd tied to his suit so it could not get too far away from him. It was covered is several layers of clear plastic to protect its circuits from the water and Rodney had to pull the plastic tight across its face in order to read what it was telling him. "I'm getting life-signs in our seven o'clock position, about two hundred meters away - a large concentration of them." He dropped the device to let it swim with him on its umbilical and pointed behind him. "This way."

Sheppard noticed the scientist was already sweating. "Did Beckett give you a shot before we left?"

"No."

Not good. "Rodney, you need those shots. What about the pain?"

"I'm okay for now and besides the morphine clouds my thinking and I need to be sharp. I'll be all right for a while, stop fretting like a mother."

Sheppard followed him while Ronan brought up the rear. He had brought along both his Satedan-engineered hand-gun which, unlike the SGC-issued weaponry, had the virtue of being water-proof, plus he has strapped his long knife to his suit's right calf casing. Ronan noticed Sheppard looking at it and said by way of explanation. "You can never be too careful."

Sheppard nodded. "Always a good idea." He watched Rodney's back. "Think he's doing okay?"

"Looks like so far, so good." Ronan answered.

"Uh, hey..." Rodney's voice came through the channel. "I can _hear_ you. These suits are on continuous VOX you know, like permanent conference calling...so stop talking behind my back. I'm _fine_."

_You mean finicky, irritating, neurotic and emotional?_ Sheppard thought and then sighed. "Well, you don't mind if I worry about my friend who spent the last thousand years buried on an alien planet? And who is now walking where he could get himself killed."

"Well, stop staring at my back. And _stop_ treating me like an invalid- I said I'm _fine_. Besides we're almost there." Rodney stopped. "Hey..."

Sheppard and Ronan stopped beside him. "What?"

"According to these readings, the chamber on the other side of this isn't flooded."

"Why didn't the Daedulus's scanners see that?" Ronan asked.

"Because it's too small to have been easily distinguishable from the surrounding water, but now that we're this close it's clear. It also means we can call the ship and have the transporter beam us in there." He pointed straight ahead. "There's still plenty of oxygen and that means we can get out of these suits."

Sheppard stared at him. "Rodney, these suits are what will protect us from the Iratus bugs."

"_And_ are what might prevent us from catching one alive. " Rodney countered "That is what Beckett wanted, not to mention what I need - a _living_ adult Iratus."

Sheppard narrowed his eyes. "You _knew_ there might be an open chamber down here, didn't you?"

Rodney sounded smug, even through the comm-link. "I suspected it – yes."

"And you thought I would let you beam in there, _alone_, to catch one all by yourself?"

Rodney sounded less smug, but just as sure of himself. "Yes. What choice do we have? One of us has to go in."

Sheppard said "Well, no chance in _hell_, Rodney, is it going to be you."

Rodney sighed. "Look, we need to catch one of those bugs. I don't care which one of us gets the damn thing but don't tell me you want to go back without trying? Where's the brave American colonel I used to know and lo...t-to _know_?"

Sheppard snapped "He's alive and well, thanks! If anyone's going in there, it'll be me or Ronan. How many Iratus are we talking about anyway?"

"Can't tell." Rodney checked his readings. "Readings aren't that specific, but lots, hundreds probably - maybe thousands. But it's a big tower so they're probably spread out. It's unlikely more than a few hundred are contained in this next smaller chamber."

"Hey, we only have another half hour of air in these things." Ronan reminded them. "If we're going to do this, let's _go_."

"A few _hundred_ huh? " Sheppard repeated "That's...comforting." He looked up at the tall Satedan and said "Since we all have enough air..." then to Rodney "all _three_ of us are going." Sheppard called the Daedulus while he glared at Rodney. "Daedulus, three to transport to these coordinates."

XXX

The chamber was dry and as dark as night. Once the three deep sea divers had shimmied out of their suits, Sheppard and Ronan set them down and aside in such a way as to allow the flood lights to illuminate as much of the chamber as possible. Sheppard looked up. Beyond the beams of photons, the chamber rose in the darkness to hundreds of feet, the ceiling far out of reach to the light. He looked over at Rodney, glad to be able to move freely again. "Now what?" He kept one eye above him as he addressed Rodney. The Iratus had to be up there somewhere, lurking in the darkness above their heads. _Above our vulnerable, vulnerable heads._

Rodney was fiddling with his instrument. "We need some way to stir them, shake them loose from where-ever they are."

Suddenly Ronan tilted back his head and let out with a blood curdling scream, making Sheppard jump back about a foot.

"What the hell are you doing?" Sheppard asked the Satedan while he felt his heart hammering in his chest in protest.

Ronan shrugged and said "It was worth a try."

Sheppard glowered at him and turned to Rodney who, for some inexplicable reason, had been totally un-phased by it. The scientist was still studying his geek-magic-tablet. Rodney noticed both of his colleagues staring at him and raised one finger. "I think I have it."

Sheppard frowned. "Have _what_ Rodney?" He was getting truly impatient with his friend's habitual keeping things from them. It was an old feeling and as much as it still made him as crazy as it always had it was also oddly comforting. Rodney may have been gone for years, thought of as dead, and just brought back to life, but he was still Rodney through-and-through. At least some things were again right with the world.

"A frequency that might make the Iratus' swarm."

Sheppard felt his heart speed up again. "We don't want them to swarm. Swarm equals attack and some nasty stuff done to your person. Trust me, been there, done that. We don't need hundreds of Iratus, all we need is one."

"You're planning on crawling up the wall to get one, _Spidey_?" Rodney asked with no little sarcasm. "If we want one, we have to make them come to _us_."

"I plan on coming out of this with my neck intact, _Morbius_! Now find another way."

Ronan stepped up to end the discussion. "Look, you two get back in your suits and _I'll_ catch one of the damn things."

Rodney saw the Satedan draw his weapon. "Uh, no way _Conan – _are you nuts? NO firing. You want to bring the walls and about a trillion gallons of sea water down on our heads? Knife only, and don't hurt it either."

Sheppard didn't like anyone risking themselves, other than himself of course, but it made sense since Ronan had been the hunted once, he no doubt had learned a few things about being the hunter. "Do your best." was all he could think to say to Ronan, who re-slung his energy weapon back in its modified submersible suit holster and wielded his Satedan machete.

Sheppard said "Come on Rodney; get back in your suit."

Once Rodney was safely encased in the cumbersome suit once more, he activated the electronic shriek to get the Iratus air born. Ronan spent the next ten minutes ducking and leaping in the air trying to nab one with his hand or slice one with his big knife while Rodney kept up a litany of running advice on just how to do that. "No, no, we need it alive, Ronan, not cut in_ two_. Stop spinning like a ballerina and stand _still_...you're not even getting close...there's one..._get-it-get-it-get-it_!...oh for crying out...no, not like that – are you trying to_ kill_ it? Over there! Hurry, come on...I thought you were the Cave man? This should be easy for you..._Watch out! Damnit!_ Well, you _almost_ had it..._Shit!" _Finally throwing up his hands, which was not very high in the confines of the stiffly jointed suit "We're running out of time."

Before Sheppard could say nay, Rodney was already shedding his own suit, stepping out of it as quickly as possible, letting the entire thing crash to the floor, making a huge racket. Ignoring the Iratus bugs swooping down from the darkness just inches above his head, he stepped around the discarded suit and approached Ronan.

As this was happening, Sheppard was yelling "Rodney, what the hell?" Sheppard began fumbling with his own suit, trying to unlock and free himself, but one of his pressure seals jammed. He silently cursed it while screaming at Rodney "Get back in your suit right now, McKay. That's an order!"

Rodney shook his head at him and stopped beside Ronan. "We need one of these things or this whole trip is a waste." He said to Sheppard over his shoulder.

As Sheppard worked to free himself from his own suit (a difficult process with a seal that kept binding up), intending to tackle Rodney and dress him in the suit again himself if need be, Rodney simply ignored him spoke to Ronan who had watched the whole argument. The Satedan was breathing hard from his exertion. The Flying Iratus were so fast, although movement could be seen, any individual Iratus could not. Around their heads each was a blur through the air and little more. Miraculously, none of the bugs had yet attempted a dive-bombing to latch on to their tasty necks.

Rodney reached for Satedan's knife with grabby fingers. "Come on, give it here."

Ronan looked at Sheppard who - fuming mad - was still trying to wiggle out of his suit though closer to success, and then said softly to Rodney. "Rodney, you know how pissed Sheppard's going to be."

Rodney knew their time was short. Ignoring Sheppard's threats of serious bodily harm, he admitted "Maybe but look - we may have enough air down here to last us a while, but we're still under six hundred feet of ocean and that means water pressure. The longer we're down here out of our suits with our bodies exposed to it, the longer we'll have to decompress, and time is one thing we don't have if we want to save Atlantis from a permanent watery grave."

Ronan hesitated when Sheppard, suspecting a conspiracy in their whispered words, warned "Both of you get back in your suits. _Now!"_

Rodney looked straight into the big man's worried eyes and said "Being in a grave sucks, Ronan, and I should know. Atlantis deserves more than to be left down here and slowly buried under a hundred feet of coral and sand – okay? - so may I _please_ have the knife?"

Ronan handed it over and began donning the metal suit once again. Sheppard cursed a blue streak as Rodney took the knife, stepping away from the light into darkness, away from their sight entirely. "Goddamnit! Rodney, you crazy _s-o-b_! - get _back_ here." Sheppard was finally out of his suit altogether and walked over to Ronan, but Ronan held him back with one massive arm.

Sheppard was about to turn his venom on Ronan when "Wait, Sheppard. Give him a chance." Ronan said softly. "I have a feeling he can do this."

Fists clenched in fear and anger, Sheppard trembled in his anxiety to just forget the whole reason they had come, grab Rodney, toss him over his shoulder and pack him back off to the ship. But instead he made his feet stay where they were while Ronan aimed his suits' flood light in the direction of where Rodney had disappeared into the inky black surrounding them.

The light found him again, and they watched in horror and fascination as Rodney stopped at a seemingly random spot that looked no different than any other spot in the chamber. Staying very still and standing as tall as his five-foot-nine would allow, he didn't move a muscle while the blurs that were the Iratus bugs swooped down so close as to disturb the tufts of hair standing up on his head. The semi-darkness appeared to be dark enough that it did not disturb the bugs as much as the blinding full force of all three suits' flood lights.

For many seconds Rodney stood there waiting. Suddenly in one fluid motion, and so swiftly done they could hardly believe their eyes, Rodney surprised them by jumping several feet in the air, swinging the knife in a wide arc around his body, then coming down fast and ending up in a low crouch balanced on the balls of his feet. It had been a smoothly executed, acrobatic move and a new talent from the little mathema-genius that neither of them had ever before witnessed.

Ronan, standing beside his former commander heard Sheppard muttering under his breath about forever locking up all crazy scientists and throwing away the key. He commented "Come on Sheppard. You gotta' admit that was pretty cool."

Rodney walked back to them, and on the end of the long knife wiggled an Iratus bug about twelve inches in length, all four of its iridescent wings impaled on the end of the blade, still alive but totally helpless. While holding up the Iratus bug like a hotdog on a stick, by way of explanation a slightly sheepish Rodney said to Sheppard "I had to kill a lot of big bugs on Gobi Prime...for dinner-like. I mean, they couldn't fly but they could, you know, jump _really_ high." At Sheppard's still reddened and furious expression, Rodney even managed to sound contrite, adding "I'm sorry, but I didn't think you'd let me if I just _asked_."

At the whole spectacle Sheppard couldn't think of an appropriate thing to say except "Well, at least we _got _the damn thing now. Let's get the hell out of here."

XXX

The Iratus was delivered to Beckett and Zelenka, plus a couple of Daedulus geneticists familiar with nanite technology, so it could be studied and any new abilities identified and categorized.

Meanwhile Sheppard escorted an exhausted Rodney to some mess hall food, the men's showers, and then back to their tiny assigned quarters for the duration of the two week flight back to Earth.

Rodney looked around the tiny room with dismay, and especially at the small bed. "_One_ bed?" He stared at the young military private who had escorted them to the room. Rodney tossed a thumb in Sheppard's general direction. "Where is _he_ sleeping?"

The young fellow raised one eyebrow at Sheppard and answered "It was, er, the Colonel's request, sir –_ one_ double bed." Then closed the door and left them alone.

Rodney stared at Sheppard like he'd gone off the wall. "We can't share one bed. And that is _not_ a double bed. That is a Super _Single_ bed. We can't both fit in that bed."

Sheppard sat down and removed his boots. "Yes we can."

Rodney's voice spiked half an octave. "No we _can't_."

"Why not? We've slept in worse. We've slept on the _ground_ before, McKay."

Rodney looked disturbed. "Yes but not side by side."

"Well, during this flight, we will be. Space on this ship is at a premium. Only the captain gets a private room, so..."

"It'll hurt my back and...and there's not enough room. Hello - recently _reborn _man here, not a hundred percent yet. You should be a gentleman and sleep on the floor."

"I'm not sleeping on the floor, Rodney, and where you are concerned I make no promises to _ever_ be a gentleman." Sheppard smiled to himself when he saw the confusion on Rodney's face. It hadn't made complete sense but that was the point. McKay thought it _should_ make sense and it was clear from the sudden dip between his brows that he couldn't figure it out.

"I can't sleep on the floor," Rodney protested once more, abandoning his struggle to decipher Sheppard's previous words, "that's worse than sharing the bed. It'll cripple me."

Sheppard reached into his pants pocket and withdrew a small black case, opening it up and setting it on the small bedside dresser. Inside were three hypodermics of morphine, a rubber tie and alcohol swabs in their tinfoil and paper coverings.

Rodney noticed. "Hey, where'd you get that? You're not the doctor, how come they gave _you_ the morphine?"

"Because the doc' gave me a crash course and this ship is short a nurse right now. Don't worry, I won't hurt you." He noticed the perspiration on Rodney's forehead, despite the coolness of the room. "It would be about this time of day you'd get a shot –right - just before bed?"

Rodney nodded. He had been gritting his teeth against the returning pain for several minutes already.

Sheppard motioned for him to roll up his left sleeve and Rodney, for a change, complied without argument. Sheppard quickly wrapped Rodney's upper arm with a rubber tie, swabbed the spot above his bulging vein and depressed the plunger, shooting its sweet relief home. The tension on Rodney's face almost immediately eased.

But that didn't mean he was done fighting. "I can't believe you're making me share a bed with you."

Sheppard could read between the lines of Rodney's fragile ego but he had his own agenda. "Look, Rodney, sharing a bed doesn't mean we're engaged. I promise I won't make a pass at you, but I need to keep an eye on you and since you've already taken it upon yourself to risk your life against my orders, it seems I have no choice but to stay with you every minute. So it looks like we'll be cuddling down every night until we get back to Earth – so suck it up big guy."

"I don't _want_ to suck...I mean...I mean this is...is_ ridiculous_. And I didn't disobey your order."

Sheppard sighed. It seemed to be a whole new discussion now. "Oh, no? And what do you call risking your life, _against my direct command_, to catch an Iratus bug?"

"Well, um, you never _gave_ me that order in the first place. Besides, I'm not in the military anymore.' Rodney crossed him arms, readying for a fight, if not to win the argument then at least to get a second bed brought to the room. "You can't give me orders anymore. And stop calling me big guy. That's Ronan's nick name, not mine."

""Big guy", Mister Socially Impotent, is a term of affection in case you didn't know, and I'm pretty damn sure you don't have a nick name."

"Well then I'll make one up myself." Rodney's eyes lit up. "Call me Science Guy. I like it. That would be fine."

Sheppard started unbuttoning his military issue jacket, answering Rodney in no uncertain words "I am _not_ going to call you _Science Guy."_

"Well Genius Man then. I admit it has less_ zing_ but..."

"Listen _Rodney-_Man," Sheppard stood up. Even in his sock feet, he had a couple of inches over the scientist and stood toe to toe with him, ensuring his words would not be misinterpreted. "You're on a _military_ ship and I'm a _military_ guy and as long as you're sharing my _military_ quarters, you will do exactly as I say."

Rodney tilted his head up in a show of defiance. "Or you'll what?"

Sheppard thought for a few seconds, then thrust one thumb over his shoulder and said in a deadly tone so there would be no doubt in Rodney's mind that he would follow through on his threat "Or I'll have them bring in an _actual_ _single_ bed instead of that nice comfy Super-Single over there."

Rodney let his arms fall to his sides. "This sucks. And I said I was sorry about grabbing the bug a dozen times now. When are you going to let it drop?"

"Not for a while yet." In his head Sheppard could still see Rodney being throttled by one of the bugs and dying in his arms. The damn mental film refused to end.

Sounding like he knew he was about to lose the argument, Rodney said "Well, we got the damn bug didn't we? It's what we went down there for."

Sheppard removed his jacket and pulled his tee-shirt over his head, tossing both on top of the tiny dresser. "I'm not unhappy that you got the bug, Rodney, I'm unhappy that you didn't give me any warning, and that you marched off to get it yourself without even giving us the chance to protect you. You could have _died_."

Rodney found and plopped down on the only other piece of furniture in the room besides the bed and the small dresser, a straight backed wood chair. "I wasn't thinking about anything else, all right? The bugs didn't seem to be attacking us. They didn't seem interested in us at all. I didn't see that there was much risk."

Sheppard stood and undid his pants and Rodney turned his head, then realised it was pointless to try and respect each other's modesty when the bed would force them into spooning for most of the night. "Well, let's call it a draw and get some sleep." Sheppard for one was already at least one day's march beyond dead tired.

Trying for one last weak swing at victory, Rodney pouted "I'm not sleepy."

Sheppard shook his head at the stubbornness of the man. "It's amazing Katie lasted as long as she did with you. Getting you to help yourself is like pulling teeth from a rabid Wraith. I can see your eyelids drooping from_ here_, McKay. You're about to collapse, so stop being such a sissy and get in bed. Besides you're thinner now - plenty of room." Sheppard said.

Rodney rubbed his burning eyes as he idly watched Sheppard getting undressed. He was tired and yawned, mostly trying to kill time as he tried to figure a way out of the whole situation. But Sheppard's slim, muscled legs, shaded with straight dark hair, walked the short distance to the bed and turned it down. He also had a thick bush of hair on his chest. The guy was pretty hairy and Rodney suddenly gave thanks for his sparser covering of body hair, even though it meant he would no doubt be losing the hair on his head far sooner than the Colonel.

Sheppard crawled under the covers and decided it was time for some fun - Bug-the-Hell-Out-of-Rodney style. He propped himself up on one elbow, folded back the open corner of the blankets a little further and patted the empty space. "Come on McKay, it's time for Mister Sandman."

Rodney closed his eyes and moaned under his breath. "God save me from _army _guys." Throwing his own delicate sense of modesty aside, he stripped to his boxers and crawled in. "I _knew_ I shouldn't have jumped in the hole."

Sheppard frowned. "What hole?"

Weary for sleep Rodney turned on his side, away from his former commander, and closed his eyes, sighing heavily. "Never mind."

"'Nite Rodney." But his new-born friend had already drifted off.

Sheppard lay awake for some time, listening to Rodney's even breathing. His body was tired but his mind restless. Rodney was clearly not sleeping soundly because he was restless as well, shifting around twice in ten minutes, first onto his left side and then onto his stomach. Sheppard tentatively placed his left palm on the small of Rodney's back. The man had mentioned back pain, so Sheppard tried rubbing his hand in small circles. Maybe it would settle the scientist down a little and they would both be able to sleep.

Suddenly it came to him what Rodney had meant. In order for him to have been found in a layer of nine thousand year-old insect eggs, he would have to have made the conscious choice to cocoon himself in them. He would have had to jump in, or jump down into them. That's what he had meant when he mentioned a hole. How otherwise would he have got himself into such a place?

Rodney had effectively committed what he had known to be a suicidal leap into almost certain gooey drowning and death. Sheppard wished he could have been there with him on "Gobi Prime", Rodney's name for the planet that had, ironically, not only saved his life but delivered him back home to his friends and family.

Zelenka had privately explained to him about the planet's unusual orbit around its red giant sun and the other intersecting orbits of the gas giants that, like clockwork, every ten thousand years drew closer to Gobi's orbit with the result of pulling the planet away from its host star and out into the farther reaches of the solar system, bringing a deep freeze to its surface and killing off every living thing. _"Had Rodney chosen to take his chances on the surface of the planet, he surely would have died."_ Zelenka had said. _"We would never have gotten him back."_

Zelenka had also suggested that, once all the fuss over Rodney being back and their stealing him away from the Terra Cotta II, that the planet should be named in his honor. _"McKay Gobi Prime"_ Zelenka had suggested, saying he would bring it up with SGC and Earth's top SGC scientific and astrological advisory council members.

Sheppard smiled in the dark. Rodney would publically scoff at the idea and run from the scrutiny of his personal life such an acclaim might bring but be secretly pleased by it. Rodney stirred a bit, and turned from his stomach onto his right side again but in doing so had shifted to near center of the bed, crowding Sheppard even more. Sheppard had to shift onto his side a bit to allow room for him, tucking his right arm above his head and up under his pillow. But now there was nowhere to lay his left arm, so he decided to just use McKay as a convenient pillow and gently eased it down onto McKay's side. Sheppard was glad to feel a little meat on Rodney's ribs again. Maybe this time he could convince the scientist to get more exercise to try and retain his new lithe shape.

It was warm and comforting being this close to Rodney and where before he would have done almost anything to avoid being so up close and personal to another male, especially with so much sharing of naked skin, sleeping beside Rodney did not bother him at all because it was Rodney. His best friend was alive and lying next to him, their bodies touching, and he could listen to his friend's breathing and know for certain it would continue. He could also smell Rodney's freshly showered skin and it did not seem weird or unnatural or even sexual. It seemed only right and perfect.

Sheppard draped his arm all the way over Rodney's torso, tucking it under his friend's bent right arm and closed his eyes, whispering into his sleep-deaf ear "Welcome home."

XXX


	11. Chapter 11

_**Sometime...Somehow... Part XI (Final chapter)**_

_Because I've only seen roughly half the episodes of Atlantis (and few of the earlier ones), I've needed to play fast and loose with Rodney's personal history for the sake of the story. So some of this is undoubtedly not strictly cannon and for that my apologies._

XXX

"Uh, we have a problem."

Elizabeth Weir, seated in the temporary office the SGC had granted her aboard the Daedulus, looked up to see Radek Zelenka enter her opened door, and for a brief few seconds a terrible de-ja-vu rushed through her, her heart dropping out of sight. A few years ago Radek had entered her office on Atlantis in much the same way bearing news that Rodney McKay was lost to them, possibly forever.

But that was then and this was now and Rodney, lagging behind a few seconds, followed Zelenka in through the door, his nose buried in his electronic notes.

She breathed a silent sigh of relief, collected herself and asked "What have you got for us Doctor?"

Whereby Rodney began to speak "Well, it's not that the program is faulty, it's just that-"

"Excuse me, Doctor McKay." As uncomfortable as it was she had no choice but to remind Rodney once more. "I'm sorry but...I was addressing Doctor Zelenka."

Rodney snapped his head up, and Zelenka suddenly looked very uncomfortable. Elizabeth could see that Rodney, by the quick blush to his face and his short nod, remembered once more that he was no longer in charge of...anything. They were utilizing McKay's magnificent brain but it was Radek Zelenka that the SGC had put in charge of the "Eradicate the Iratus and Raise Atlantis" mission. They had expressed "grave concerns" about Rodney's present mental fitness to endure the man-hours necessary to work out the mathematical calculations and his over-all physical well being, which continued to improve but, according to the report Doctor Beckett had filed with SGC's Chief of Medicine, was by no means back to normal.

Rodney gave the floor over to Zelenka with a casual wave of his hand "Sure, sure, sorry. Whatever." He said to Weir and then, losing what little patience he possessed, snapped at Radek "Come on,_ tell_ her."

Elizabeth had not repeated the details of the SGC or the IOA's opinions regarding Rodney to Rodney himself, but earlier had merely cited to him that Zelenka's current position within the scientific community had to be honored. She could see that although McKay had expressed his understanding of protocol, it was obviously sticking in his craw a little.

With a nervous glance over to McKay, Radek continued "The program, Rodney's program is perfect, but the problem is the Replicators are as well versed as we are in the nature of computer viruses and the fractions of time units within which they can be enabled. The problem is the attosecond, as short a unit of time that it is, isn't quite short enough and the Iratus nanites will be able to over-write the program in a matter of minutes. They'd be back to full mobility and even though-"

Radek's habit of using twice as many words as necessary finally got on Rodney's last already frayed nerve and he verbally walked overtop "Look, I know it isn't _protocol_ for me to speak out of turn but can we skip to the chase here?" Without waiting for Weir to say yea or nay he plunged ahead. "The code won't keep them down long enough for the poison to take full effect. The problem is we'll be initiating the program and then making real-time adjustments from the Daedulus computers and they are simply too slow."

"Why do adjustments _need_ to be made?" Weir asked.

"Because the nanites _themselves_ will begin to adapt to the Yes/No virus in a matter of seconds." Zelenka said.

Rodney added "So unless we can continuously re-write the code as we go along, this whole thing is pointless – we may as well not even attempt it."

"Well, how do we-?"

"_I_ have to go down there." McKay said. "I need to be there, _in_ Atlantis, on-site for this to work. The Atlantis computers are ancient tech' and way ahead of anything that's human or Asgarrd. I can make any needed adjustments there in real time. As the nanites adapt, I change the code, they adapt, and I change it again, that way we stay ahead of them until the poison takes full effect. Then it's just a matter of beaming the smell and the mess out into space."

Weir chewed her pen thoughtfully. "But the control room is flooded."

"Yes, I'd have to go down in a submersible suit – adapted."

"Adapted how?"

He wiggled them for emphasis. "Well, I'd need my fingers free, so gloves but not metal - too confining."

Weir nodded, gathering the new problems and their solutions into her mind. She turned to Zelenka "Radek, could _you_ make the necessary adjustments?"

Radek suddenly looked nervous. "Uh, um, er, yes, yes, I think so, but Rodney –"

Weir saw the look on Rodney's face and thought not for the first time that as much as she loved her job once in a while it had its drawbacks. "Rodney and I need to have a discussion, Doctor Zelenka. Would you mind waiting outside?"

Weir could tell McKay knew what was coming, so there was no need to announce it, simply explain why. "It's too risky, Rodney. You're still on heavy pain medication – Doctor Beckett and his medical team still have no idea if your lengthy..." She had no idea what to call it – coma, slumber, near-death experience, cold storage? She finally settled on "_...absence_ has left you with permanent physical problems. Plus you tire easily and recently you've had some...bad news."

Rodney looked away briefly, and swallowed. "It's been two weeks since Sheppard told me. I've dealt with it and I'm_ fine_."

"You've dealt with it?" she repeated tenderly, her tone gentleness itself. "Coming back from the dead to find Atlantis, your department and the work you love, _and_ your sister gone?" Weir looked at him sadly. "I'm not sure I would be "dealing" so well if I was in your place."

Acerbically "Well, you are not _me_." He countered. "You think I haven't suffered losses before I came to Atlantis? Before the worm-hole accident? Well, I have and there's one thing I've learned about myself and that is no matter how bad things get, _I_ bounce back."

"I believe you, Rodney, but I think that's because life hasn't often given you a choice." When Rodney had been found and revived the IOA had decided to further her education regarding her former genius employee. His re-introduction back into active life required, they claimed, a certain level of intrusion upon the part of those who had taken charge of his welfare, as least in the short term – and the person they had chosen for that education was her. Therefore Weir had been granted the unique privilege of reading Rodney McKay's personal and somewhat unusual educational history.

Where he and his sister were concerned, the report was both tragic and redemptive. A sister and her older brother, both genius-level brains who's talents had been nurtured since very young, a cold, perfectionist professor father dead in a car crash when they were both teenagers, mother dead a few years later of alcoholism, and Rodney and sister sent to separate schools to continue their education in the fields of science and mathematics, courtesy of government funds.

With that, the decision makers, who were not acting from altruistic motivations, wanted something in return for their generosity. A brilliant mind and a young soul who could be molded into exactly what they needed: Atlantis's new resident genius. The emotional and vulnerable side of the equation, she mused, had not been the priority where their new genius was concerned and Weir could well imagine the loneliness that resulted as Rodney was made to learn alongside those years ahead of him in age, and no doubt brimming with resentment toward the youthful genius, but who soon fell rapidly behind him in mental prowess, while the professors and interested others took a keen intellectual interest in both students, both of whom having showed remarkable creativity and intuitiveness in the field of astrophysics.

She could also imagine the flattery they must have heaped upon him in order to keep him under their collective thumbs, and she could hear their promises of glory and fame, filling Rodney's head since his youth, never once factoring in his human side, the side that might desire something other than mathematically derived theories and proofs. Such praise might have bolstered up the rickety self image of a young man torn from his normal home and routine, but would have left him with little choice but to seek whatever friendships he might garner among a collection of adults whose sole interest in him was not how to be a kind and supportive companion and friend but how to exploit his near one-of-a-kind brilliance, and all of it offered as a substitute for whatever real feelings of love and acceptance he might have otherwise craved.

A child prodigy in every way, Rodney had grown up isolated and confused about most things that did not originate on a blackboard. Weir herself had witnessed it; comprehension of simple, human feelings that other people took for granted, like relationships, friendships and forgiveness, Rodney had experienced only from a distance or by reading in a book.

Rodney had been raised for half his life in an imitation family. The protective cloak of hostility which he used to protect himself from hurt and the near emotionally crippling fear of failing his superiors and friends suddenly made so much more sense. "You can't fool me, Rodney. Jennie was the only family you had left in the world and now she's gone. I _know_ you're hurting."

Rodney shook his head, as though to dispel her words from his thoughts. "It doesn't matter...right _now_. Once this is done, once Atlantis is safe, then I'll take the time to mourn, I'll stay on Earth for a while, go home to Vancouver, if that's what you want."

"Rodney, you saved our lives and the city, and you lost over three years of your own life doing it. You've sacrificed so much already - let someone _else_ take the risk now." Weir found herself almost pleading with him. "You don't have to prove _anything_. You've done _enough_."

Rodney sighed, shifting his feet. "Well, Atlantis doesn't _look_ particularly saved right now, does she?"

"Rodney – "

"I...I _need_ this Elizabeth." He bit his lip, glancing once to his hands and then away. They had begun to hurt again. His feet would soon follow. He said nothing what-ever about them to her however. Not now. "Please let me do this._ Please_, I need to...I need to finish what I started or...or none of it makes sense. I was..._there, _o-on that planet for...for _too long_ to lose her now."

_She...her_...Atlantis. His beautiful and beloved friend, his great love perhaps? His expression was so earnest Elizabeth couldn't help but wonder if they were being too hard on him, too protective. Weir almost caved and had she not been impelled otherwise by those above her, she might have. But, no, it was time for Rodney to find warmth in his life again somewhere besides a power conduit or a Naquadah generator coil.

"Rodney..." she said it softly, wishing her words would take away his pain; that which lay apart from the physical, whatever it was, but there was no meeting him even half way. Despite her own wishes, Stargate Command had made the decision for her. "I _am_ sorry, Rodney, but the answer is no."

XXX

Radek, encumbered in his submersible suit, but with his hands relatively free inside the modified rubber gloves, found the bulky unit unbearably hot despite the chill of the surrounding ocean water. "Are we ready with the toxin?" He asked through the suit's communication link to the Daedulus.

"Affirmative. Ready to deliver when you are." It was Sheppard's voice. In the background he could hear Rodney complaining about the micro-fractional second communication delay between the Daedulus's transmitter and those in Atlantis's Control room, and Sheppard making soothing noises, doing his best to reassure him.

"Okay. On my mark, deliver the toxin." Zelenka shook his head to clear the sweat dripping into his yes and readied his finger above Atlantis's main computer control. All he had to do was push Execute and Rodney's program would flow into every conduit, circuit and anything touching them through-out the city, infecting each and every Iratus bug in a cascade. At the same instant the toxin would be delivered, via a hundred and twenty nine modified bombs set to go off and infect the sea water contained within Atlantis's shield with a poison deadly enough to kill millions of colonies worth of the insect invaders.

Radek stated once more "This should effectively kill the Iratus bugs and the nanites within, at the outside, twenty minutes." He had thirty minutes of air in his suit. Plenty of time. Radek announced it at the same time as he depressed the button _"Execute!"_ An invisible wave of deadly zeros and ones were transmitted through-out the flooded city in a near instant. At the same time he heard the toxic bombs going off one after another in a physical and lethal wave that lasted another few seconds. Then all was silent, and it seemed somehow anti-climatic.

As he watched for the first signs that the Iratus were dying, Radek said into the communicator "Beginning randomization of the anti-nanite virus now." For the next nineteen minutes or more he would have to make continuous random changes to the virus program to stay ahead of the nanites extraordinary ability to self-repair and recover. Rodney had coached him about in what directions to take the virus, and his fingers entered numbers rapidly.

After five minutes had gone by, though, his fingers began to stiffen and with horror Radek realised his arms were rapidly tiring. Forgetting he was on VOX he said "Uh oh."

"_What_ "uh oh"?" It was Rodney's voice.

His arm muscles began to burn from the forced, unbroken work. "Um, I'm having trouble with...this much typing...this much so fast without a break - my...my hands are starting to cramp up."

He could hear Rodney's cursing over the mic'. "Look," Rodney said "you can't stop but you _can_ slow down for a few seconds. Just shake out one hand at a time, then go back at it, you've only got fourteen minutes left to go."

But Radek knew it would soon become impossible to keep up the pace. "Rodney, I've done what you suggested and it's not really helping."

"Well, just suck it up. If we stop now this whole thing is a bust."

Radek could feel the headache starting behind his eyes and the panic building in his chest. "Rodney, I'm not going to be able to keep this up for much longer...I –I just _can't_, my arms are killing me. Someone has to get down here and help."

On the Daedulus Rodney turned to Sheppard. "I have to go." When Sheppard didn't answer for a few seconds, Rodney jumped all over him. "Look - we don't have time to argue about it. If anything goes seriously wrong down there, we're screwed anyway – right? So if nothing else maybe this time you'll get the chance to save me."

Sheppard had a feeling it would come to this. The universe seemed to be a bitch that way, but there were out of time and he could see no alternative. Gritting his teeth _"Go,"_ he said. "Lorne, help him into the suit."

It was another four minutes before Rodney was standing beside Radek in the flooded tower. Rodney poised his hands over the Atlantean keyboard and said "When I say stop, pull your hands away. Ready? – _Stop!" _At the same instant that Radek ceased entering code Rodney took over, his fingers flying over the keys as fast as Radek had ever seen. Considering the added pressure of the water against his movements, it was remarkable to watch.

A beeping on his suit's control panel announced it was time for him to think about heading back to the ship. "I only have nine minutes of oxygen left." Radek said needlessly to Rodney.

"Fine, go-go-go." Rodney kept his eyes on his task, not even looking up.

For the next several minutes the nanite's attempts to adapt and overcome his carefully engineered virus was a race almost neck and neck with the Atlantis team leader staying ahead by barely a nose. Rodney barked into his comm-link "How much longer?" His own muscles were showing the first burning signs of cramping.

Radek, safe and sound aboard the Daedulus, answered "Another four minutes. How are you doing...Rodney? Is everything all right?"

"Yes – stop talking to me, I'm concentrating on the echoes."

"The _what_?"

"I'm getting some bounce-back from the virus program which means the nanites are adapting faster than before, so this isn't as easy as it was - stop _bothering_ me."

Rodney's vision began to swim and his face mask began to cloud up which, he suddenly remembered, was not supposed to happen. He glanced down at his oxygen indicator level attached to the right arm of his suit. It showed five minutes of oxygen left and he had just under five minutes remaining in his battle against the nanite horde's collective intelligence that was fighting to break free from his murderous code.

As his left hand continued to enter corrections with a speed unparalleled to any time during his career, Rodney gave his right wrist a quick shake. Suddenly the oxygen indicator level dropped to zero. "Great." He muttered. "Surrounded by ancient technology and they give me a suit manufactured in Guatemala!"

"Rodney – what's going on?" Radek asked.

"Nothing, nothing - almost done here." He probably had enough oxygen inside the suit itself to complete the work and make it back to the Daedulus just fine - as long as he didn't do a lot of breathing.

Sheppard spoke next. "Rodney. The Daedulus's scanners indicate the Iratus are all dead, so if the code worked against the nanites, then we've done it." Aboard the Daedulus Sheppard and everyone involved felt much relieved that this was almost over. Atlantis was as good as theirs again, and this time Rodney could come home in one piece. "Rodney?"

The code having finished its unique work, with the dead and nanite-inactive Iratus drifting in the mild currents of the flooded tower and his oxygen at zero, grey clouds began to close in on his field of vision as oxygen deprivation slowly took Rodney's sight, and then his consciousness, from him. He fell over in the heavy suit, landing softly on the floor of his beloved city.

Atlantis was saved. Mission accomplished.

Aboard the Daedulus Sheppard tried the comm-link again. "Rodney? _Rodney!" _Sheppard barked at Zelenka "Get him out of there!"

Zelenka took the controls and entered Rodney's coordinates. "Uh, having some trouble locking on, there is no power indication from his suit now – the batteries must be dead. And the bodies of the Iratus are scattering the signal and making it impossible to lock down his exact location."

Sheppard yelled as he ran from the bridge. "When I've suited up, transport me to his last known location. Once I've got him, lock onto my suit and transport us up."

"Right."

XXX

Sheppard, still in his suit and dripping water on the transport platform, removed his helmet, thankful to see that medical staff had been ordered on stand-by and were ready with oxygen for the fallen scientist.

Sheppard waited anxiously as they divested a prostrate Rodney of his helmet, strapped an oxygen cup over his nose and mouth and began feeding him the precious gas that would bring him out of his faint. After a too-long minute Sheppard breathed a sigh of relief when Rodney's eyes fluttered open and he started sucking in deep, reviving breaths, his eyes watering with the delight of once again being able to breathe sweet, sweet air.

Radek blew an explosive sigh from his lips and with it went most of the stress of the last half hour. "That was too close."

Sheppard, once he had finished shedding his own suit, suddenly lost the strength in his legs and collapsed to his backside, though keeping his eyes focused on Rodney who, though now sitting up, had not yet moved from his spot on the floor. But the scientist was very much alive and drawing in gallons of air like it was the best drug in the galaxy.

In a satisfied stupor Sheppard watched Rodney as his colour returned to normal. It felt good just to sit there and let his racing heart settle back to its normal level of terror as he watched his friend, his present and living friend, staring back with his disconcerting blues across the ships' deck. And was Sheppard imagining it or did Rodney look apologetic? He decided it didn't matter. Rodney was never good at saying he was sorry anyway, it took a lot out of the guy. Besides he could always kill the crazy bastard later for making him nuts with worry. "Yeah." Sheppard agreed quietly. "_Way_ too fucking close."

Atlantis was raised from her watery grave and the garbage-ing out of her commenced via the Daedulus's transporter. The evacuation of all the water and the cleaning out of every dead Iratus body and egg would be a drawn-out process involving shifts of rotating clean-up crews that would last many months.

XXX

Sheppard stood before the Stargate Command Military Council and the IOA Board of Directors to answer for his breach of duty.

"Colonel Sheppard, please rise and stand before the Council." General Landry said who, along with General Caldwell, were seated as the two heads of the Board of Inquiry. Landry continued. "You stand accused of partaking in a cross-system theft of the body of one Doctor Meredith Rodney McKay, using the Daedulus as the vehicle for this illegal act. You then abandoned your post aboard the Daedulus without permission from your superiors. You also refused to answer all attempts made by Stargate Command to contact you so you could explain your actions to them. How do you answer these charges, Colonel?"

Sheppard had practised what he was going to say the previous evening, trying to figure out a way to make them understand but the facts were bald and he could not deny any of them. They were all true. The problem was the answer was too simple. So simple in fact that it had no wings and would likely not fly as an excuse for anything he had done.

From the General's side of the continuing battle against their enemies, things were hardly ever simple. General Landry, as good a man as he was, had never been in combat other than a few skirmishes in Afghanistan. He had only been in space a couple of times, had never faced the daily dangers inherent in Stargate travel, and had never been personally faced with the need to sacrifice his own life for the good of his city, his team or his comrade in arms. No, not for the many...

Nor even for the one.

The necessary words would not come, Sheppard realised. There was too much to explain, and too much that was without explanation. Rodney was not only a friend, he was a member of his team who had suffered right along with them in countless encounters with the Wraith, the Replicators, the Genii and a half dozen other groups who had decided that Atlantis was an elitist enemy rather than an powerful ally. Getting Rodney back was something he'd simply had to do. He was a soldier first and as such there was one hard and fast rule in peace-time or in times of war –

"I will not leave a man behind, sir."

General Landry looked At Caldwell, whose coldly practical eyes had not left looking into Sheppard's. Landry consulted the papers set in front of him that had set forth in military legalese the matter before the Board, and then suddenly closed the folder altogether.

"Colonel Sam Carter has filed a statement in support of your actions as has Colonel Ellis and General Caldwell." Landry explained. "As General Caldwell is on the Board, I am forced to disregard his recommendations for leniency. However, the other two affidavits stand on their own merit. We recognise, Colonel Sheppard, that this has been a difficult time for you and do not think for one moment we do not appreciate what you have tried - indeed have _succeeded_ - in doing. Your actions have led, though not entirely _directly_, to the reclamation of Atlantis as an important intergalactic military base and presence in the Pegasus Galaxy, and as a first defender of Earth in our own. As well you and your team, including Doctor McKay, have managed to remove the Iratus infestation from Atlantis and as a result any risk of them obtaining a foothold on Earth in the process." Landry took a breath. "But be that as it may, obedience and discipline within the ranks is both a required and necessary platform from which a soldier must conduct himself, and in this instance you as a soldier and a commander of others have failed to fulfill that duty.

"So it is hereby the decision of this board that you will be reduced in rank to Lieutenant Colonel until such a time as this Board sees fit to alter that decision, and you will be removed as commander of the Daedulus and returned to your previous duties as Military Team Leader of the Atlantis Expedition. This Hearing is adjourned."

General Landry walked over and grasped a stunned Sheppard's hand. "Congratulations, John. God speed to Atlantis."

Not shaking his hand but only putting his trim hat back on his balding head, General Caldwell remarked soberly "I pulled some strings to get you Atlantis again, John, so try not to fuck it up, okay?"

XXX

After a celebratory drink with Sheppard, Rodney sought out and found Radek in the SGC mess hall. Radek was sipping tea and reading a scientific journal.

Rodney read the title. "_Astron' and Astrophys'_ huh?"

Radek nodded. "Just trying to catch up."

Rodney sat down and Radek noticed the contents of his glass. "Yeah," Rodney said with distaste "_Vitamin _water. Beckett's orders until my kidneys improve."

"Probably a good idea." Radek remarked.

They sat in silence for a moment and then Rodney said "You ever thought of writing a paper on, you know, what happened?"

Radek raised his eyebrows. "You mean on the wormhole experiment?"

"Yes, of _course_ on the wormhole experiment. You know - the one that almost killed me? You haven't done any other crazy experimental stuff since then have you?"

"Er - no." Radek shook his head. "Uh, look, Rodney about that, I haven't had a chance to say –"

With one hand Rodney waved away any awkward apology. "Forget it, forget it. What's done is done but - look, you basically invented a time machine and I'm the proof that it works. You should publish a paper on it."

Radek shook his head. "Well it may be a time machine but it's uncontrollable and almost killed you and might have killed everyone else in Atlantis."

"Yes, yes, yes but suppose someday someone _finds_ a way to control it? Maybe someday _you'll_ find a way and presto! - _Instant_ going back in time and placing a winning bet on the Grey-Cup. It worked for Marty McFly didn't it? Well I mean it would have worked had the doc' stopped trying to thwart his efforts. The point is you'd be rich _and_ famous...well, sort of. Besides it's only a paper on a revised _theory_ of time travel and how it _might_ be accomplished, I mean it's not like you can blab that you actually built the thing."

Radek was unconvinced. "Rodney, I haven't written a paper in over twenty years. I wouldn't even know how to begin. And I'm a complete unknown now in the scientific community – no one would publish it."

Rodney looked over to where others were eating MRE's or talking. "Well, maybe I could...help you write it. I could be your co-author."

Radek seemed genuinely surprised by the idea and that it was coming from his old mentor. "You would do that for_ me_? _Really?"_

"Sure. Why not? You deserve the acclaim, I mean you sent me back in time by nine thousand years and almost _killed_ me with it but...well, that certainly proves it works doesn't it?"

"Wow, um, wow, Rodney, I don't know...I don't know what to _say_. Um thanks, thanks very much. I'll try to get started on that as soon as I can. Uh, today even, a-as soon as I finish my tea."

Rodney nodded his approval. "Good." He stood to leave but then had a thought. "Um, on that paper, I'll want my name _beside _yours, not below."

Radek swiftly nodded his agreement. "Right, right..._beside_...good idea, of course, yes-yes, you got it - absolutely."

XXX

With Rodney in tow, Sheppard entered his friend's former quarters in Atlantis. The cleaning crew had worked months preparing the city for occupation once again. The room was clean but bare of all furniture.

Rodney dumped his bags on the floor and looked around. "Seems familiar, the emptiness I mean..." Rodney indicated the bare walls with his hand "No furniture, everything a clean slate again...weird."

Sheppard could not help but agree, except for the emptiness part. As long as good friends were present, it was as full as it needed to be. "Was anything salvageable?"

Rodney shook his head. "No. I'll have to get my housekeeper to send me new photos of Jules."

"Jules?"

"My cat, and don't start with the teasing me about the name- I named him after Jules Vern, okay? He was an author I just happen to like."

Sheppard, dressed back in his fatigues, spread his hands in protest. "Hey, I didn't say a word." The fatigues were not necessary as there would be no scheduled missions anywhere until Atlantis was well stocked again with people and supplies, but he simply preferred them. He felt the most comfortable in them. But it was a bit of a surprise about Rodney's cat – that the man actually wanted framed photos. There were still things about Rodney he had no idea about. Rodney - the grumpy atheist and science whiz who liked _animals_.

"I'm going to have to buy a bed sometime today." Rodney complained. "The city's supply stores are still bare as bones, so just _where_ am I supposed to get a bed?"

The Daedulus had no spare room to transport people's furnishings and the people as well so but for a few exceptions no one had a bed yet. Sheppard shrugged. "Most off world villages have them...things that kinda' _pass_ as beds anyway."

"Oh, yeah, wooden frames with woven animal hair or cattle fodder for a mattress - I don't think so. My spine would disintegrate in a week."

"Well, I have a brand new queen sized Pillow-Top logic mattress bed already installed." Sheppard said wiggling his eyebrows. "With new Eight Hundred Point weave sheets, too. You could always bunk with me for a while."

Rodney glared. "Um, let me see_ - no thanks_! I'll be keeping my body to myself from now on, GI-_John_. Those two weeks aboard the Daedulus just about made me crazy. Your leg hair alone gave me a rash."

Sheppard pouted. "Come on Gramps, it wasn't that bad."

"Are you kidding me? I've _still_ got rug burn."

"Stop exaggerating." Sheppard said. "Come on, old man let's go see if Supply has unloaded any Army-issue cots yet."

"Hah! Those are worse than sharing a bed with _you. _Seriously where am I supposed to sleep tonight? Unless you're willing to do what you should have done..."

"You mean sleep on the floor?" Then with gentle tease "Geeze, Rodney, it's a _Queen_-sized bed. You're so homophobic."

"I am_ not_ homophobic, I'm-I'm hetero.._.preservative_."

Sheppard placed his arm around Rodney's contrary, argumentative, infuriating but highly valued shoulders, steering his old but young friend to the door and the hunt for a suitable bed. "Rodney, this city just wasn't the same without you."

To which Rodney heartily agreed. "This city didn't _survive_ without me."

"We lasted for a _while_." Sheppard reminded him. "Some of us can get along just fine without the great ol' Doctor McKay." As a mission bed-hunting wasn't very challenging, but at least they were able to embark on it together and, after what they had all been though, the simple task of some relaxing down time, or just dispelling the boredom by walking the city with Rodney were hours Sheppard welcomed without complaint.

Rodney jumped on his last words. "And stop calling me old – I'm _not_ old."

"Does it bother you that much? You _have_ aged nine thousand years, give or take thirty-five years."

"In actual years, yes, but my body _hasn't_. I am as fit as I was before all this mess began, so quit it. Anyway, it's not common knowledge."

"Um, actually among the Atlantean folk it _is_ common knowledge."

"What? You mean I'm going to be the butt of old man jokes from everyone now?"

"Rodney, my old, old, _old _pal, I can pretty much guarantee it."

XXX

**END** *Remember, there is a sequel coming up (some of it already down in ink), plus two other stand-alone stories to be posted either before or after the sequel is finished – not sure which yet.


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